Wilde's Card
by Flipside Remix
Summary: "Red paws a'knocking, honeyed words a'talking. Bunny's in the sack, a knife in her back. Shut the doors and check the locks. Here comes the big bad fox" - An old rabbit nursery rhyme. (AU)
1. Shiny, Pretty Fox, Thought the Rabbit

**Disclaimer:** **Zootopia is owned by Disney. All characters and other content were used for the purpose of entertainment and not for profit.**

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 _See bottom of the page for author's notes._

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It was over.

Her career, her dreams.

Everything was _over_. All before it had even begun.

Glumly sitting alone on a hallway bench, deep within the corridors of ZPD's Precinct One-all dressed up in a bright orange traffic vest and ridiculous bowler hat-Judy Hopps felt like the most pathetic little bunny rabbit in all the world. Fallen from class valedictorian to token meter maid in what must have been record time. If the odd passing officer or staff mammal spared her a glance of pity, Judy wouldn't begrudge them. But she might have felt some surprise. _One_ , because the bunny had hidden herself away in one of the quieter areas of the station, trying to avoid attention. And two….

 _Two_ , because the last week had shown her that, without a doubt, _no one_ on the force wanted Judy around. Not Chief Bogo and not any of the other officers under his command. Save, perhaps, for Benjamin Clawhauser. Bless the fat friendly cheetah's gentle soul, his cheery morning greetings and heartfelt evening pep talks had been the only real ray of sunshine in Judy's life for the past seven days. That included her time off the clock and on the phone with her parents. She understood their... _enthusiasm_ for her paltry assignment. She got their relief, really, she did. It was as natural as it was insufferable and infuriating.

Judy's time out in the streets had proven to be a very mixed bag. On one paw, no well-meaning but chronically unsupportive parents around to harass her-they were miles away and at least respected her career enough to not call until shift's end. On the other, no Clawhauser to drag along for a mobile pity party. No Chief Bogo to chew her out for asking _again_ if,just maybe, he'd change his mind and hand her a real case that day. No mercy from angry motorists who'd rather scream in her face than contest their ticket in traffic court like a normal mammal.

Seven. Days.

Seven days since Chief Bogo got up in front of the bullpen podium and blew her off. Seven days since he handed out the fifteen missing mammal cases to every cop but her. Seven days since he stuck her with parking duty.

Judy remembered coming back to the station, brimming with self-confidence and ready to present the fruits of a first day's labor. A whopping _three hundred_ parking tickets printed, total. Two thirds of them handed out before noon. It was supposed to be a show of professional competence, proving to the chief why his newest officer was an asset better spent on something greater than parking duty.

Bogo had looked over her report, his brow arched. Judy had taken it as a good sign. She'd made an impression! Then Bogo had snorted and slid the report back to her with a gruff, sarcastic congratulations. And a warning not to burn herself out early. Then he'd dismissed her for the day.

It crushed the soul. The rest of the week passed, and Judy's daily ticket count had fallen from staggeringly impressive to merely adequate. Bogo hadn't commented on it, so Judy figured he didn't care much at all. That was basically his life motto anyway. As long as the token bunny did her job, her boss was content to let her wear a badge. As if that badge meant anything at this point. Everything she had worked for all her life had turned out to be one big joke. Worse, a lie.

So the next Monday rolled around and found Judy hunched over on her lonely bench, small fuzzy paws clasped together between her legs as she stared at the floor. No one cared if she was getting started a little late that day. Least of all Judy Hopps. A week ago, the bunny would have scolded herself for being so defeatist. _Well_ , Present Judy thought darkly, _Past Judy could go shove it_. Present Judy just wanted to wallow in miserable defeat for a while.

Her big bunny ears did not fail to pick up faint footfalls of an approaching mammal, but a disengaged Judy registered nothing. Not even when those footfalls ceased and a shadow draped across her big bunny feet.

"Rough day, officer?"

The voice was...not unpleasant. Smooth, casual, and male. Unfamiliar. Slightly jocular rather than outright mocking. That was unexpected. Not enough to lift Judy's droopy ears, but sufficient to rouse her attention. Dull violet eyes edged upward in sluggish surprise.

Red footpaws that darkened toward the digits, planted on the floor about maybe three feet away. Forest green slacks on legs about as long-or as short-as her own. Paws stuffed into pockets. A black belt looped around a long barrel of a torso. Open suit jacket, the same color as the slacks. White dress shirt, buttoned up and tucked in. Black tie, hanging loose around the collar. Not very professional in the least-

Russet red fur. Piercing green eyes. Pointy ears. Pointy snout full of pointy _teeth_ -

Judy jerked back on reflex. Two long ears shot straight up in alarm and a gray paw flew to the pink canister at her belt-

And the fox laughed, easy and casual even as he took a half-step back. "Woah, easy! Wound a little tight there, bunny." He regarded her with a grin-full of glinting white _fangs_ -and a tilt of his head. Those paws hadn't left his pockets, and some distant part of Judy decided it was a small comfort.

The rest of her blanked hard. She stared up at the fox, stunned and silent, her button nose quivering as the fox's toothy grin widened. Raw shock and triggered bunny instinct kept her rooted to the spot. Out in the open. All alone in an empty part of the station. Vulnerable.

"What's the matter, Officer Hopps? Fox got your tongue?" Not waiting for a reply, the fox flopped down onto the bench. Right beside the startled bunny. He also didn't seem terribly offended when Judy put a few more inches between them. The fox merely hunched forward and gave her a half-lidded smirk, elbows resting on his thighs and paws hanging between his legs.

"Hope you don't mind. I've been on my feet all morning."

To their credit, bunnies were usually quick on the uptake. It was an ancestral survival thing too useful to lose. Judy, unusual though she might be among her kind, was no exception to that particular rule. Rattled alarm quickly turned to professional embarrassment as she forced herself to relax. Her stiff posture drooped into something more submissive. "Oh, no, no that's fine. You just kind of startled me there, haha...hah…." Judy laughed awkwardly and _really_ hoped her smile came off as at least a little convincing. Her bench mate merely offered a lazy blink, expression unchanged, and Judy ended up looking away with a hard wince.

 _Well_. This was awkward. There was no way he had bought that. Judy was a bunny who confronted situations head-on, as points of habit and of principle. But what she really needed more than anything right then was a redirection. A distraction. And thank fluff, there was a perfectly pertinent matter at paw. Served up by the fox himself.

Judy chanced him a questioning glance. "...How did you know my name?"

The fox's expression softened into a coy smile. He fished out a smartphone and tapped away with padded thumbs. "I like staying on the up and up," came his conversational reply. He held up the screen for her to see. Lo and behold, a news article detailing her graduation and induction just a few weeks prior. "Zootopia's first rabbit cop. I hear it's a real victory for the little guys."

Judy felt her ears stiffen and her eyes widen. The fox actually sounded... _impressed_. It was some of the only praise she'd received in the last few weeks, and it felt...nice. Ridiculously good, if Judy were honest with herself. Especially coming from a complete stranger; Clawhauser was wonderfully understanding and supportive, but Judy's track record with random citizens was already abysmal. Then one fox later-positive reinforcement! The bunny couldn't stem the tide of feverish gratitude that welled up within her. She offered the fox a heartfelt-and slightly sheepish-smile.

"I keep forgetting that was news," she admitted, worrying at her lower lip.

"Everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame." The fox slipped the phone back into its pocket. "Thing is, it sounds like you actually deserved it."

Judy ducked her head for a moment, cheeks flaring. "I'm just trying to do my job. Helping people," she murmured. "It's been my dream since forever."

"Looks like you made it." The fox's small nod became a slow shake of the head. "And yet, I'm not sensing a lot of joy here," he pointed out.

Judy tried to shrug off the observation, raising a shoulder and rubbing an arm. She turned her gaze away. "Eh. Everyone has bad days. I just...need some time to think."

"Guess that's why we're both here, then," her companion mused. It drew a curious look from Judy. Then he quickly added: "But if you need to be alone right now, that's fine." The fox made to get up and leave.

Judy held up a paw to stop him. A reflexive gesture, one that ended with her flinching back just before contact. But it got the fox to pause.

"You don't actually have to go anywhere," the bunny murmured, embarrassed about that little slip-up. She went ahead and changed the subject with a guess. "I mean, maybe you're you having a bad day too?"

"Mm, not exactly." His tone was evasive, but in a playful manner. It only intrigued Judy further.

The fox, apparently, could see that just fine. He smirked. "How about this? You tell me what's got you down in the dumps, and I'll put my cards on the table," the fox prompted. Judy could hear his interest sharpen.

She did want to talk. She really did. Just wanted to take all of the frustration roiling in her gut-toward parking duty, Bogo, her parents, her beat, her fluffing badge-and just _vent_. But Judy had sworn an oath. A promise that, as an officer of the ZPD, she would uphold her institution's most cherished values. One of those was integrity, both personal and professional. "I really shouldn't," she muttered. It came out as a reluctant sigh. "Sorry."

"No need for apologies, Hopps," the fox replied. His voice was as smooth as silk. "If it's too personal…." Judy could almost hear his shrug. Understanding though he might sound, Judy didn't miss the leading tone.

"Oh, no, it's not that." Judy wasn't sure where the sudden need to explain came from, but it got her looking his way again. Her ears perked up and, vaguely, she noticed his doing the same. "It's just, you know..." Not always the most articulate mammal, Judy threw in a few meaningless paw gestures. "Internal ZPD stuff. Probably an HR thing, honestly. Maybe." She grimaced in apology, then shook her head a little. "We're not really supposed to discuss that stuff with civilians."

Judy wasn't sure what she had expected from the fox. Maybe another shrug? A change in subject? But then he seemed just a bit too keen on the matter for that. Perhaps a twinge of annoyance, then? A part of Judy-the one that sounded a lot like her parents-pointed out that this random friendly fox had _apparently_ stumbled across her by serendipity alone. Had taken interest one small bunny for reasons that sounded a bit too good to be true. Had congratulated and coaxed her with a certain sly charm. It was all a little suspicious. Stranger danger. _Remember Gideon Grey_!

The better part of Judy stamped a mental foot and scoffed. That was absurd! This fox was _not_ Gideon Grey. Her childhood bully had been a mean angry dullard. Bulky in body and small in mind. With an accent that screamed 'look at me, I'm a hick among hicks' and a raging temper

The fox beside her was none of those things. He was still taller than Judy, yes, but also slender. With a quick intelligence that sparkled in his eyes. Playful where Gideon would have jeered. Attentive when he could have derided Judy as a dumb bunny with stupid ambitions. And there it was, the biggest difference. This fox hadn't dismissed her dreams. In Judy's book, that got him a leg up on most other mammals she knew. She wasn't ready to label the fox as "nice" quite yet-maybe a little too friendly with strangers-but credit where credit was due.

No, not like Gideon Grey at all. This fox could very well just be a concerned citizen, trying to cheer up a little fuzzball who was clearly down in the dumps. He didn't even have to be a good samaritan about it. Maybe this was more out of pity than a desire to do good. That much could be expected. Such was life for a rabbit.

 _Then again_ , that voice suggested. Murmured. Whispered. Hissed conspiratorily. _Then again_ , yes, he _was_ being too friendly. Too probing. The fox's queries could be a way to get a bead on her. To find an angle he could exploit. It was a paranoid thought. Borderline irrational, and the rest of Judy felt scummy for it. Yet the longer she peered at the fox, the louder that voice grew, and the less comfortable she became. There was-she had to admit-something about his loose demeanor and easy smile that seemed all at once incredibly disarming and just a little too slick.

But maybe that was just her upbringing and primitive bunny instincts talking. Because the fox barely reacted to her excuses at all. At first. He just peered at her for a few moments, his expression unreadable. Then came a chuff of what Judy had to guess was amusement.

"Now why is that, pray tell?" the fox asked, all light teasing and false innocence. He raised a brow and smirked in a way that was ever so sly. The whole thing came off as almost...flirty.

Judy frowned a bit. _Then again_ , good cops relied on their instincts, didn't they? She assessed him for a moment. Then took a breath and puffed out her chest a tad, sitting up straight. Her stare was resolute...and to Judy's chagrin, all it did was make the fox widen his smile. It was bordering on a grin now.

"It staves off legal trouble. Potential conflict of interest and other issues," she explained evenly, with all the neutrality she could muster. The fox didn't look surprised in the least, like he'd heard it all before and was just toying with her. It was then that the bunny began to realize this guy knew _exactly_ what he was doing-even if she hadn't quite pinned it down herself. But now Judy was onto his game. She saw right through his smarmy act. The fox wasn't about to pull a fast one on her.

Not that he seemed to care about that one bit. The fox just made a sound of vague acknowledgement in the back of throat and kept right on smiling. Waiting for her to make another move. So Judy decided to give him a little shove back, just to get the point across.

Now, Judy Hopps was a firm believer of the mantra "anyone can be anything," coined by Mayor Lionheart during his first campaign for office. She was also well aware-especially now-that not all of society had caught on to that truth just yet. Certainly, if a bunny rabbit could be a cop then a fox could be...well, whatever the odd-fox-out might aspire to. Probably something that wasn't shifty and sneaky. An astronaut or something. The point was that Judy knew employment options could be limited for any mammal. She had been a very lucky bunny indeed, coming into the police academy under the Mammal Inclusion Initiative as she did. No mammal would have let her onto the force otherwise. Judy was sure of that now.

Her younger self had been a tad more naive. Okay, a _lot_ more naive. Judy remembered getting into an argument with her parents over foxes a few years back. Some cousin of Gideon Grey's was the latest talk of the town on account of applying for college. Not the local community college that Judy planned to attend on her way to the academy, but a full blown _university_. Apparently in pursuit of a degree in higher education. Things were certainly different in Zootopia, but this was unheard of in the Tri-Burrows. A fox with a post-highschool education! Her parents couldn't believe it and at the dinner table had tisked loudly about the poor vixen's job prospects. Then-teenage Judy had just entered her (so far lifelong) progressive phase and, like many teenagers, had no filter. If a bunny could be a cop then by God, a fox could become a teacher. And vice versa. So of course the conversation had shifted to Judy's own dream as her parents voiced their concerns about it for the five-thousandth time….

The fight had been loud and short. It ended with Judy sent downstairs to her room, fuming and sans-food. She had booted up her second (or more likely third or fourth) paw laptop-a barely functional throwback to the era of dial-up-and gone on a furious (if painstakingly slow) websearch to prove her parents wrong. But the truth had been on their side that night. It turned out that there was a disheartening lack of honest jobs out there for the aspiring fox. The experience had stayed with Judy all these years, as had the short list of options.

Now was the first time that she drew on that knowledge.

Judy's eyes roved over the fox. She had sized him up before and her quick cop mind had been working out the details behind the curtain. Yes, a good officer did listen to his (or her) gut. But it was really an eye for clues and a knack for deduction that made the difference between a decent officer and a truly good cop.

Like so.

The fox's suit was of decent quality but didn't reflect any kind of high-power opulence. It was colored a darker shade of green that went well with its wearer's eyes but didn't convey the same power and competence that a black ensemble would. This wasn't a corporate mammal. Or at least, not one who was very high up the ladder. Then there was the way he had left his suit jacket open and his tie pulled loose. There was no real sense of professionalism to it, but combined with the fox's easy-going manner…

Judy's first instinct was to peg him as a reporter. Some rackish mammal looking for an easy scoop from a disgruntled, vulnerable bunny. Probably for some trashy clickbait article on the rampant discrimination that supposedly pervaded the ZPD. A sentiment which Judy had to admit she didn't _completely_ disagree with, but she wasn't about to be a patsy to some muckraker. Or be caught badmouthing her superiors. Integrity, after all. Even if the long arm of the law had given her the short end of the stick.

But she had to discard the reporter theory almost immediately. Foxes, fairly or not, weren't the most trusted species. Not even TMZootopia would let any of the vulpines on their staff (and there were, admittedly, more than a few) conduct an interview. Hire one as a private investigator, someone who could snap pictures on the sly or dig through the trash? Yes, but never as a field reporter. It was just bad policy.

Just given that he was a fox, slick prick or not, Judy was left with only a few more options. And out of those she finally made a snap decision. Even if she were wrong, well, there were less flattering choices to go with. The calling she picked out was respectable enough, even if the animal beside her was not. Now all she had to do was wait for the fox to dig himself into a hole.

"But I'm sure you already knew about of all that legal stuff," she replied, her tone shifting to something between sweetly polite and a little too indulgent. Just to let him know that, yes, this cute little bunny was onto his little game-and that he really shouldn't have made assumptions.

"Oh?" God, that look on his fox face was getting insufferable. His head tilted and a cheek rested on a paw. He didn't seem keen about giving up on the fun just yet. The fox certainly had a good poker face, Judy would give him that. "Should I, officer?"

"Well, you _are_ a lawyer, after all, aren't you?" Judy's smile was, in a word, cute. Almost innocent. Her own hint of knowing smug ensured it never got quite there. "I'm guessing public defender, or maybe a small local firm."

That got a reaction. The fox's other brow rose to join the first. He tilted his head a little further, then straightened it out and leaned in a bit. The back of his paw tucked itself under his chin as all that confident self-assurance melted away into something akin to bafflement.

"A _lawyer_ , officer?"

And just like that, Judy was back to seriously questioning her life choices. A sharp pang of doubt bit into Judy's stomach. "Well, I thought you might be here to visit a suspect?" she replied, trying to mitigate the damage done. Not the worst save Judy could make, given that the interrogation rooms and holding cells weren't _too_ far from that spot. But it sounded a little too evasive even to her own ears. "I can't give any information about that, either," she added quickly. Lamely.

The fox said nothing, simply staring at her. Silently mulling over something. Judy didn't know what. But it was making her very uneasy. Why was this guy suddenly so _hard to read_? She wasn't even sure how to interpret that hook in his voice. Incredulity? Wonderment? Just plain old surprise?

It was a painful few moments that dragged on for an eternity and a half. Finally, the fox clicked his tongue. Leaned back off of his knees and sat up. Then he chuckled. Judy's eyes stayed glued to him, her expression dipping toward poorly concealed dread.

"Maybe we should start over with some proper introductions?" He gestured toward her with a paw. "Officer Judy Hopps." Then brought the paw back to his suit jacket and pulled back a lapel.

Revealing the unmistakable golden badge of the Zootopia Police Department.

The fox's pleasant smile sharpened into a smug smirk, his voice now a low and sarcastic croon. "Detective Nicholas Wilde. ZPD, Precinct One. Nice to meet you."

Judy's train of thought promptly derailed in spectacular fashion. Her face fell. Both ears followed suit. She stared at the badge, dumbly, for more than a few beats too long. Big purple eyes flicked up to the fox's face, then back down. It felt like her quick bunny brain had been reduced to a puddle of molasses.

Then reality hit home and horror dawned.

"Ohmygosh, I am _so_ sorry!" Judy yelped. Almost squealed, really. Fuzzy paws flew up to clutch at her face as she burned up with embarrassment. The skin beneath her grey pelt felt hot, all the way from ear tips to fluffy cottontail. Oh God. Oh God oh God _oh God_!

Judy was _screwed_. An eye for clues and skills in deduction? She had fluffing _profiled_ the guy! A fellow cop, one who was technically a superior to boot. After all her high-minded talk about enlightened attitudes and sensitivity among species. Judy felt like the world's dumbest bigot bunny bumpkin. Now rabbit instinct was kicking in hard and she wanted nothing more than to scamper out of the precinct and hide away in her hovel of a room for the rest of the day. Or week. Maybe forever.

Then the fox went and made everything so much worse: He laughed.

Judy wanted to die.

"Officer, _officer_." His drawl was smooth and pleasant. The fox- _Detective Wilde_ , Judy miserably corrected herself-grinned at her pitiful reaction. She could hardly blame him at this point. "Hopps. Don't worry about it."

"That's not really possible right now, sir," the rabbit groaned, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

"It's the suit, isn't it?" Detective Wilde chuckled, glancing away. His voice grew almost wistful. "It's always the suit. Every time."

Just for one hopeful moment, a dazed Judy Hopps wondered if he'd really managed to miss the obvious. But no, the fox was too sharp for that. She caught the sidelong smirk he sent her way. Impossibly, despite her flagrant stupidity, this Wilde character was giving her an easy out. The gesture caught Judy off-guard. Could it really be that simple? Blaming her blatant speciesism on some clothes and then just walking away? For all his cocksure swagger and smug smirks, could the fox really be nice enough to let it all go?

Judy's shame deepend. He wasn't the bad guy here after all. Never had been.

She really considered the silent offer, good and hard. Wilde, bless his heart, waited patiently. His eyes slipped away again to glance at what was probably nothing. The bunny averted her own pair to the floor and clasped her paws together.

Judy took a deep breath.

"No, Detective Wilde," she sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "It's not the suit. It was me being a _very_ dumb bunny."

"Hmm?" Wilde turned his full attention back to her, visibly surprised and ears perking. The tip of his bushy tail flicked once. Judy grit her teeth and forced herself onward.

"I said it's my fault." The bunny looked up at the him with a frown, as angry at herself as she was determined to do right. "I didn't think there were any foxes on the force. And then I made some _really_ bad assumptions, and…."

Judy trailed off as Wilde held up a paw. He was searching her again with those bright green eyes of his. She held her breath without thinking about it, and only let it out when the fox made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat.

"You don't have to worry about it, Hopps. I mean it."

Wilde didn't _seem_ mad. His smirk was now just as mild and gentle as his voice. Judy's ears perked back up in cautious surprise. Then flicked right back down when he chuckled deeply.

"Buuuut, if you want to make it up to me…." he hinted, tilting his head just so. With eyes just ever so sly.

"Oh!" Judy jumped at the chance, almost literally. She had to fight not to jerk up off of the bench. Redemption through effort. She could do that. "Yes, anything!" Judy smiled at him, pleadingly. Then seemed to realize what she had just said. "Er, I mean, not _anything_ ," the bunny hastily amended with a strained laugh. "But if you need me to file some paperwork or finish some case files, or, uh-"

"A little less paperwork in my life, huh?" Wilde cut in, glancing skyward as he rubbed at the fur beneath his chin. "That's _awfully_ tempting, Hopps, not going to lie." Then he stopped and smirked down at her. "But how about you just join me for a cup of coffee and we call it even?" He jerked his head toward the break room back up the hallway. "It's not the best stuff, but it saves a trip down the block."

Judy hesitated. Sucked in a breath and held up a fuzzy digit, a reply at the ready. Then lowered it as she reconsidered the offer. "I...could do that, yes. I could do that. Mm-hm." She gave a little jerk of a nod and smiled hopefully. Nervously. Disbelievingly. She bit back a hiccup of a startled laugh. A wave of relief washed over her.

Wilde just kept smirking. "Good."

Without another word, he rose to his feet, stuffed both paws into his pockets, and casually sauntered off down the hallway. Judy jumped up and hurried after, a hopeful spring in her step.

* * *

On her third day with the force, Judy had spent most her lunch break wandering around the station. Exploring, poking around, and generally getting a feel for what she had believed would be her "home away from home." Maybe trying to build a sorely needed sense of fondness for the place, if Judy were honest with herself at the time. It was dauntingly enormous, built for mammals many times Judy's size. So the bunny hadn't been surprised to find the officer's lounge ran along the same lines. Big chairs circling big tables scattered around the room. One massive corner couch that could probably handle even Officer Francine Trunkaby. A wall-spanning countertop almost too tall for the wolves. Judy never had much reason to spend any downtime there. Sitting in with a bunch of mammals who didn't want her company held little appeal. Besides, she had been too busy out trying to prove herself.

With the rest of the officers out following leads on the missing mammal cases, Judy and Detective Wilde had the break room all to themselves. The fox had been kind enough to brew a pot of decaf when Judy finally up and admitted that bunnies and caffeine were one heck of a bad combination. It got a little chuckle out of him, the kind that told Judy she had probably just confirmed a suspicion or two. She felt a twinge of embarrassment but quickly stamped it out. The fox was playing nice with her. After that debacle in the hallway, she could endure at least a little ribbing.

There were three coffee machines lined up on the counter, each catering to a different mammal size. All of them chugging away and greasing the wheels of justice 24/7. And even the smallest pot was like a pitcher in Wilde's paws, probably meant for wolves rather than foxes. Up on a stepstool they'd found stashed under the break room sink, the fox poured both of their cups with practiced care.

"What do you take in yours, Hopps?"

"I...don't actually know. This'll be my first cup," she admitted. It was a silly thing to feel dumb about, really, given the circumstances. But then here she was. Trying to make things up to Wilde in any way she could. "Try everything," in the immortal words of Gazelle. "Bunnies don't drink coffee, period."

Sure enough, Wilde saw the incongruity. "Unless you rabbits do, in fact, run on batteries, that's going to change real fast," the fox predicted, a smirk tugging at his muzzle. He set the pot back and picked out a few sugar packets. "How many you want?"

"Oh, uhm, none for me, thanks." Wilde met her awkward little shrug with a curious look. Judy chose to avoid his eyes, making a show of getting up on her toes and trying to peek over the counter. Only the darkened tips of her ears made it. "Just...just some creamer is fine. And maybe a little Sweet'n Doe?"

Amusement blossomed on Wilde's face as he worked on her order. "Is sugar another no-no for bunnies, or is this just an Officer Hopps thing?"

"Both, I guess?" Judy hedged, dropping back down. Maybe he was trying to provoke a reaction, but she didn't have to rise to the bait. "When I was a kit, my parents never let us have any sugar. Unless it was in jellies or jams. Or pies. I never grew much of a sweet tooth."

"So," Wilde summarized, not-quite-subtly biting back a laugh. " _So_. A cop who drinks decaf and doesn't do donuts. Truly you are a mammal of firsts, Hopps." Wilde slid her cup off to the side and dumped three sugars into his own. Judy wondered if he did that just to tease her.

"Hey, have you ever seen a bunny hopped up on candy?" Judy rejoined in a tone that wasn't quite neutral. She might have been feeling _slightly_ defensive at that point. "Have you seen a whole burrow full of them?" A shudder followed. "I have."

"Does that mean bunnies don't do Howlloween?" Wilde tisked, swirling their drinks with a couple of plastic coffee stirrers.

"Ehhh, not Howlloween, exactly." Judy wasn't about to mention how most bunnies still thought of that night as a "predator holiday." Which was completely absurd, as she had often pointed out-even as a kit. _Especially_ as a kit. Ever since she learned that its historical roots lay in frightened _prey_ warding off predators. Mostly by frightening the predators right back. "It's basically the same thing. Except nobody dresses up. And the kits get fruit instead of candy."

"Darn. Bet all those kids would've pulled in one heck of a haul," Wilde muttered, flashing Judy that playful grin of his as he handed off her cup. She chose to just smile pleasantly and thank him for the coffee.

They didn't stick around the break room very long. Wilde claimed he could never stand the smell of stale coffee grounds and coaxed Judy upstairs with him to the station's uppermost level. While the actual police mammals made their domain on the first and second floors, the third story and above were almost all support staff-the chief and his office being the sole exception. Here was a much more diverse set of mammals where the smaller species predominated. Almost-bunny-sized work stations and lounge areas abounded, which should have made Judy feel just a little more at home. But all so crowded and _noisy._ Apparently, the top floor was home to the ZPD's entire beleaguered IT department, and the headphone chatter was incessant. Her family's home back in Bunnyburrow had been crowded and noisy, too, of course. But in a comfy and muffled sort of way. And if someone wanted a little quiet time to themselves, they could always wander off into the fields for a while. Here, raw nerves frayed away while a half dozen copy machines screeched in the background. Judy suddenly understood why Bogo's office seemed so out of the way from everything else.

Perhaps Wilde noticed the the bunny's discomfort. Perhaps he didn't. But he seemed like the observant sort, and it was hard to miss how a wincing Judy laid her ears flat. Either way, the fox wandered past it all with his easy saunter and led Judy away from the cacophony of stressed-out office mammals. She didn't care where they were headed at that point. Anything to get away from the noise.

The pair ended up out on one of the long swerving walkways overlooking the station lobby-atrium, technically. It was the same level as Bogo's office; Judy could actually see the buffalo's name on the door from across the gap. Should he think to step outside for a moment, there was no way Bogo could miss the orange-vested bunny seated right out in the open. That didn't bother her much. The chief only seemed to care that she made her daily ticket quota and otherwise kept out of his fur. Her playing a little hooky with Wilde probably wouldn't matter much. Judy's rebellious side still liked the idea of maybe pissing the guy off. It was immature of her, she knew, but the bunny was a strong believer in justice-including the deeply personal kind.

Those darker thoughts held little sway for long. From atop her perch, Judy would have waved down at Clawhauser with a smile if the front desk actually faced her way. As it was, she could only catch a glimpse of him showing off that Gazelle app again. This time to a collared perp who looked like he'd rather be in lock-up already. Judy chuckled to herself. Perched atop the back of a chair that had been set flush against the frosted glass railing, she had a great view over the edge. Her parents would have had a heart attack if they saw her. _Judy, get down from there! You'll slip and fall and break your neck!_ She rolled her eyes and sipped at her coffee...which would have bothered them too.

At least they didn't know what company she was keeping these days, Judy mused. She hardly believed it herself.

Again the fox and bunny were all alone, lapsing into a strangely companionable silence. Judy found herself stealing glances over at Wilde. He was just opposite of her, seated on the edge of the grassy planter that ran all along the walkway wall, engrossed in something on his phone. They had made a little more small talk on their way here, but it hadn't been anything of consequence. He had inquired more about country bunny life and she had delighted him with the news that, no, they did not just grow carrots and, yes, they did in fact produce blueberries. Some of the best around, she had decided to brag. Then he had admitted that most foxes were crazy for blueberries, and that he himself was no exception. So on and so forth. Now Judy couldn't help noticing the way he had kept steering the conversation her way. Asking about _her_ past and _her_ dreams while offering only paltry snippets about his own life. The attention-starved rabbit been all too happy indulging him. There was no criticism from the fox, not really. Just a little playful teasing belied by what seemed to be an earnest interest. Pleasant and definitely appreciated-and perhaps just a tad endearing-but also intriguing. It tickled the police mammal in Judy. A little domestic mystery in need of solving.

The bunny thrilled at it as she gazed over the the edge of her cup. Gazed over at Wilde.

Judy thought about how to best broach the subject as fuzzy gray-and-white digits drummed against styrofoam. She didn't need to fake her sheepish smile, though this time her ears didn't droop. "I'm really sorry, you know. About everything."

The fox glanced up from his phone and waggled his own cup. "Apology's right here, Hopps. Don't go martyring yourself just yet." His smirk was pleasant and playful. Judy returned it with her own soft smile.

"It's just, how did I not know about you already?" she snorted, laying on the incredulity. Jerking her free paw about and earning herself a curious look from Wilde. "The ZPD newsletter never mentioned any fox cops. And definitely no detectives."

"You read The Beat?" Surprise flashed across Wilde's face.

"Every issue since I turned eighteen." Judy couldn't help the note of pride in her voice. Wilde wasn't the only one who stayed on top of things. She added, "My parents got me a subscription and kept renewing it for my birthdays." It had been the closest they'd ever gotten to supporting her dream, but she wasn't about to say that out loud.

The fox quickly fell back into an easy smirk. It was kind of fascinating, like watching a mask slip into place. "Well, there you go, Hopps. That'd be six years now." Judy felt herself stiffen- _how the fluff had he worked that out?_ -and then relax when she remembered the article he'd flashed her. It must have mentioned her age or something. "I joined a full two before that," Wilde informed.

"Eight years on the force," she murmured with a twinge of awe. Truth be told, for all his smirking and teasing and air of rascality, Detective Wilde did have a certain mature edge to him. If one knew where to look. Or maybe that was just the seniority talking. Now Judy found herself wondering how old _he_ was.

Then another thought occurred, and Judy frowned.

"But when you made detective, I'm sure they would have mentioned-"

"You mean last month?" Wilde fixed her with a sardonic grin. Then he looked away and took a sip of his drink. "Guess last issue was already off to the printers by then. Maybe check the next one, Hopps."

Judy took that moment to promptly shove another foot in her mouth.

"It took you _eight years_ to make detective?" she blurted. And immediately clamped a paw over her mouth, pupils shrinking down to pinpricks. "Oh, fluff, I _did not_ mean it like that, I swear!"

Wilde choked out a laugh. " _Wow_ , Hopps. You're really on a roll today, huh?" He took a sip to hide what Judy assumed was a vicious smirk. A well-earned one at that. "Yeah, I know, it's usually around two to three. Guess that makes me kind of a loser, huh?"

"No, it's just-I didn't meant to imply…." Judy wished she was closer to the wall, if only to give her head a good bang. "Argh!"

Wilde laughed. "Hopps, I'm just giving you a hard time, alright?" He spread his paws a bit, adopting an indifferent look. "Thing is, I don't care about the spotlight. Making a big deal about perps and busts? It's not my style. Plus…." Here Wilde gave a casual shrug and swirled his drink. "Some mammals call me a little lazy. If I'm not making the prime time, blame that if you want."

Their conversation was interrupted by a commotion down in the lobby proper. A curious Judy, reply forgotten, peered back over her shoulder. Wilde padded over and stuck his chin up over the railing. Clawhauser was out from behind his desk for once and in animated debate with a much smaller animal. Judy's ears swiveled forward to catch the cheetah's pleading, as exhausted as it was sympathetic. Some determined squinting revealed the smaller animal was an otter.

Beside Judy, Wilde gave a click of his tongue as he followed her line of sight. "Ah. Right on schedule."

"Now there's a sad case," he sighed. "Mrs. Otterton. Sweetest little lady you will ever meet in this life, Hopps." The fox's tone waxed eloquent as he motioned down at mammal with his coffee cup. "Devoted mother and wife. And I do mean devoted. Her husband went missing more than two weeks ago and she's been here every day, pestering the chief for updates."

"So _that's_ the otter," Judy realized, ears straight and erect as she watched the scene unfold below. "The one from the missing mammal cases!" Judy sent Wilde a puzzled glance. "Hasn't anyone told her we'll get in contact when case moves forward? It's standard procedure."

Wilde pursed his lips but didn't meet Judy's eyes. His own pair went half-lidded as he pulled back from the railing and glanced down at his coffee instead. "Yeahhhh, that's the thing, Hopps." The word-dragging suggested hesitance, but the fox's tone held a powerful neutrality. Suddenly, Detective Nicholas Wilde was impossible to read. "There's a case, sure, but no one's actually working on it."

Judy furrowed her brow, certain she hadn't heard right. "What?"

"No one's told Mrs. Otterton," Wilde elaborated. His eyes found their way back to Judy's again but revealed nothing. "For obvious reasons, but believe me. She knows."

"No, Wilde, go back." Judy dropped down to the floor and shook her head, somewhere between stunned and annoyed. "What do you mean, 'no one's working on it?' It's an open case! That's not how things work around here."

Judy's paw gestures were emphatic and inspired. The most they got from Wilde was a shrug.

"Priorities, Hopps. That's how things _have to_ work around here. You know that." The fox went back to sipping on his coffee and gazing down the walkway length. He didn't seem to be focusing on anything in particular, including Mrs. Otterton. "Every case has its place in the stack. And the fact is, Mr. Otterton's is right at the bottom."

"And just why is that?" Judy demanded, her free paw on a hip.

Wilde just sighed. Whether out of exasperation or pity or something else entirely, Judy couldn't tell. "Because he's an otter."

The fox turned toward Judy and crouched down so they were both at eye level and favored her with an even look. "What do you think when I say the word 'otter,' Hopps?" It was clearly a rhetorical question. "Slippery water mammal? Playful? Maybe kind of lazy?" Wilde tilted his head as he gave her half a second to think and no time to reply. "Everyone figures he's just busy goofing off somewhere and forgot to tell the missus. That he'll show up whenever he gets to feeling like it." Wilde's tone grew patronizing. "Think of all those wasted mammal hours when there are fourteen other animals who might actually be in trouble."

Judy was appalled. "That's...that's _horrible_. And incredibly speciesist!"

"Oh, so you don't agree?" Wilde had assumed veneer of mock innocence and dripping sarcasm. Judy forced herself not to bow her head in embarrassment.

"Look, I might have made a big dumb mistake. We both know that. But that doesn't mean I can't see right from wrong." Judy slapped her vest with a paw. "You can't say 'oh, well, if you've seen one otter you've seen them all,' you know?"

"...Was that supposed to be Chief Bogo?" Wilde asked, bemused.

Judy was in no mood for jokes and fired back, "The guy handling the dossiers handles the stack, right?"

"Point," the fox conceded.

"I mean, what if Mrs. Otterton is right?" She ran a paw between her ears in fret. "Mr. Otterton could be in trouble and no one's out there looking for him. Worse, he could be hurt."

"And if she's wrong, Hopps?" Wilde regarded her with a careful look. Not critical or encouraging, just...careful. He didn't seem to be pushing her either way, but there was undeniable logic in his challenge.

Judy hesitated. But only for a moment. "Then...then at the very least, we could help put her mind at ease," she stated firmly, stamping her foot once.

The fox's eyes widened in mirth. "Hah! Try telling the chief that one. Mammal power, remember, Hopps? Everyone's already busy with the 'important' stuff." Wilde went ahead and used air quotes. Now he seemed to be almost agreeing with her. Or was that sarcasm? Judy, though annoyed either way, was on too much of a roll to give it much mind.

"Not everyone," Judy muttered. She glanced back down over the railing in time to watch a dejected Mrs. Otterton drag herself out the front door. "Unbelievable!" the bunny fumed, throwing up her paws and glaring at...not at Wilde, no. She didn't want to give him the wrong impression. That potted plant over yonder would do fine, though.

As far back as she could remember, Judy Hopps had always despised injustice. It made her gut burn with an indignant fire. A fire she had harnessed early on and repurposed into a nigh-unstoppable driving force. With it, she had powered through hundreds of nay-saying bunnies, a grueling stay in the academy and-well, okay, the fire had dimmed quite a lot after the parking tickets thing. But now if flourished anew. Burned bright with a righteous fury as hot as the sun itself.

"Chief Bogo knew about Otterton and he still stuck me with...with parking duty busywork! Just because I'm a bunny," she spat.

"Woah, Hopps!" Wilde raised his free paw in a 'settle down' gesture, eyebrows darting upward. "Easy. The chief's a real hard case, yeah, but he isn't yanking your chain." His ears fell back as Judy shot him a look of pure ice. "Seriously, I swear."

The bunny didn't drop her glare. Wilde sighed and glanced around. He didn't really need to; they were still all alone on the walkway. Then he fixed Judy with a gaze so piercing that she almost flinched.

"Alright, look. I'm _technically_ not supposed to tell you this. So don't go blabbing that you know, alright?"

That was enough to snag Judy's attention well enough. Curiosity thawed and softened her gaze. It took her hesitant nod of agreement before Wilde continued. "Right so here's how things work here. Every new recruit hot off the metro gets ticket duty for about a month. Every single one." Wilde let that sink in for a moment. Then he leaned forward and brought his muzzle in close. Judy, to her credit, only arched her back a little. "It's an _evaluation_ , Hopps. The chief wants to see how you handle a little responsibility before he sends you out on the real stuff. Top-of-your-class or not."

Conflict played out across Judy's face and broiled in her gut. On one paw, that made a lot of sense and she was suddenly feeling like a Grade A moron for not picking up on it herself. On the other….

"A month?" she groused. Cheese and crackers, she sounded whiney.

"Hey, it sucks, I know." Wilde's smile, for once, held more sympathy than smug. He clutched his drink with both paws and pulled back his ears. "Four weeks in a bowler hat and a clown vest? Driving around in a three-wheeled jokemobile? Mortifying. But we all went through it. Including yours truly." He was crouching down now, eye-level with Judy. Wilde's voice was soft and surprisingly soothing. "I get it, Hopps."

Judy took a step back without thinking about it. Wilde's swerve into empathy-ville had thrown her for a bit loop. The bunny ended up regarding Wilde with the tiniest frown. There was no edge to it, and honestly it was more of a pout than anything. "Why aren't you supposed to tell me?" she murmured. Judy wished it didn't come off so petty-like. The bunny knew she was fishing for a victory, even a very minor one. "That's hardly fair."

"But it does make sense" The fox insisted, his smile going lopsided. "Precinct One gets the best cadets, paws down, no questions asked. You know we need them."

Wilde wasn't wrong. Most academy graduates excelled in one or two environments and so were funneled into a suitable precinct. Cadets who showed notable competence in all biomes-like Judy Hopps-were considered well-rounded enough for Precinct One. Officers assigned there were expected to play highly generalist roles. Able to answer calls all over the city or be loaned out to the more specialized precincts when needed.

The fox continued: "But you know how it is. Sometimes the best of the best-and I'm not naming names here, relax-sometimes mammals get too cocky. It makes problems for everyone. So what do you do? Fire them?" Wilde shook his head. "No, that's a waste of taxpayer money and city hall hates that. So what you do is bring them down a peg. Right out the gate. Make sure they won't let their egos get in the way."

Judy blushed at that, suddenly having a very hard time looking Wilde in the eyes. She could still feel his teasing smirk and it made her ears burn. Judy gulped and tried to keep her voice even. "I see."

Wilde, mercifully, didn't comment as he stood back up and drained the rest of his coffee. "Don't let it get you down, Hopps. Just do your best and, hey, just wait. You'll make paperwork month in no time." He chuckled at Judy's groan and tossed the empty cup into a nearby trashbin.

"Fine," the bunny sighed. "I get it. I don't like it, but I get it." She finished off her own cup and tossed it as well. One point, however, she stubbornly clung to. "What about the Otterton case?"

"What about it?" It would have sounded flippant, if not for the fact that Wilde's shrug was a bit helpless this time. Judy thought he almost looked kind of sad.

So Wilde did care after all. Judy already suspected as much, but hearing it for herself was a strange comfort. Her respect for the fox went up a few notches.

"Sir, someone's got to help them," she insisted, softly, ears drooping. She looked up at him with big round bunny eyes. Pleading eyes.

She hadn't meant it like that, but that didn't seem to matter much with Wilde.

The fox lapsed back into a smirk. "Oh, Hopps, no. Enough, please, I beg of you." He grinned and tilted his head back. Laid an arm across his muzzle to cover his eyes away. It was all very theatrical. "How could anyone disappoint a cute little bunny like you?"

Judy wasn't sure what to go with here: Mild indignation at being called "cute" or dwelling on her latest round of surprise. Ultimately, Wilde gave her time for neither.

He let the arm drop but kept up a now roguish grin, head tilted just a little. "Okay, here's what I can do. The chief and I go way back cause, you know, eight years." He waved a paw, the very picture of airy self-assurance. "Point is, I do have his ear on a few things. So, no promises, mind. You know the chief. But let's see if I can't get the Otterton case rolling along, hm?" He finished with a smile that was all soft indulgence.

Judy's ears perked, her lips parting just slightly. "You'd do that?" A grin blossomed as her sunken spirits took flight. "Wow, I...that's great!" The bunny's chest swelled in elation, and the sigh that followed was one of relief. Any extra chance that Otterton would get some real attention was a win in her book.

Wilde scoffed good-naturedly and rolled his eyes. A grinning Judy would have none of it. "I'm serious, you're doing a good thing here," she praised. "Mrs. Otterton will be _so_ thrilled, I know it."

"Only if the chief says yes, remember," Wilde warned. But he didn't look too concerned and Judy took that as a good sign. "You're looking pretty bouncy yourself, Officer Hopps."

Judy shot him a smirk. Or tried to, at least. It came out as a sunny smile. "Maybe you've impressed me, Detective Wilde." She'd meant to mirror one of Wilde's playful bouts. But the bunny couldn't keep from sounding just as earnest as she felt.

Wilde set a paw on his chest and smiled warmly. "Well, that is high praise. It's rare that I find someone around here looking out for the little guy."

"Besides you?" Judy prompted, her smile settling into something gentle and kind. This was new ground for her, thinking of a fox as...well, kind of charming, actually. Her baseline for foxes was Gideon Grey, true, and a mammal could only go up the ladder from there. But Judy happily put Wilde on a high rung. He had earned that much by now, for sure.

The fox just smirked and shrugged with supreme nonchalance, casting a glance at the wall clock mounted not too far away. "You're too kind, Hopps. _Annnd_ it looks like I've kept you from your beat longer than I meant to." He shot her an apologetic look. "Sorry about that."

"No, don't apologize. This was great, really," Judy assured, fluffy tail wiggling behind her. "Thanks for, well, everything I guess. The coffee and...the perspective." Her tone hardened into determined professionalism. "I'll keep proving myself out there. Just like everyone else did." The bunny went ahead and raised her chin a little.

And then muttered with a slightly comic slump: "Even if it's boring as all get-out."

That got another head-tilt out of Wilde. "You think so?"

Judy scoffed. "Well, yeah? It's the safest job we have. I tried to make a game of it, but that got old pretty fast."

"Oh, sweet summer child," Wilde tisked and shook his head, paws clasped together. "You never heard about Officer Wolford and the elephant, did you?"

That got her attention. Judy blinked. "Can't say that I have."

"Alright, I'm guessing you're already familiar with this little song and dance," Wilde continued. "Hard working meter maid-mammal, I guess-and angry citizen. The manual says always be kind and courteous, but, hey, who's it written for? Robots?" It got a small snort out of Judy. She could relate, oh yes.

"So, anyway, Wolford's handing out tickets, minding his own business, when this big angry elephant in a wifebeater lumbers up and starts laying into him. Shaking his trunk and throwing his weight around; thinks he's a real alpha male type. Now, this is out in Sahara Square. It's been a long hot day and tempers flare. Wolford says the other guy took the first swing and, hey, I believe him. But either way, things escalated."

Wilde sliced across the side of his torso with the edge of a paw. "The elephant tried to gore him. Got Wolford right here and tore him wide open. Blood everywhere." Judy winced hard. Wilde nodded sagely. "Wolford was darn lucky, but the poor guy was in stitches for months. I heard he went a little stir-crazy."

Judy couldn't deny she was feeling pretty squeamish right then. She forced it aside for the moment. "But that's still pretty rare, right?" she insisted. Hoped, too.

"Sure, because have you seen the people who work here? We have lions, tigers, bears, and then there are the real heavy lifters." Wilde counted off the digits on one paw. "Not a lot of mammals want to mess with that."

The fox brought both padded palms to his chest and splayed his digits. "And then there's us. The little guys. The ones who get stepped on if we're not careful." Judy's brow-arch probably held more skepticism than he'd expected.

"Look, all I'm saying is it doesn't hurt to have a little extra help," Wilde finished.

"I've brought down a rhino before," Judy retorted, arms crossed. One thing she never liked was being underestimated, no matter who did it.

"Hopps, everyone here brought down a rhino," Wilde pointed out, eyes at half-mast. "Or a hippo, maybe even an elephant. It's a Precinct One standard req. That doesn't mean it isn't a job and a half for mammals like us. You know that more than anyone else."

Wilde gave Judy a serious look and the bunny scrunched her brow right back. A long few moments passed as neither backed down. Then Judy sighed in resignation and set both paws on her hips. "Alright, Detective Wilde. So what do you suggest?"

"A sidearm," was Wilde's reply. Complete with knowing smirk.

Yeah, okay, he was screwing with her again. "Officers on parking duty aren't issued sidearms," she reminded with an impatient huff. "Only if we're doing _literally anything else_. It's in the manual."

The rabbit sure as heck hadn't expected what came next.

"Right, right, I forgot all about that," Wilde mused, not bothering to hide an impish smile. There was a flash of something sharp and bright behind his eyes. Two red paws came together with a clap. "So...I guess we'll just have to get you out in the field a little early, won't we? Say...on the Otterton case?" He flashed her just the slyest, toothiest grin.

Judy blinked, fairly certain she had suddenly lost her mind. Or that maybe Wilde had lost his. Both ears perked up high and swiveled, out of sync and erratic. "W-what?" The bunny felt suddenly dazed. No, scratch that; like she'd been hit by a truck. For the second (third? Fourth or fifth?) time since they'd met just half an hour ago, Nicholas Wilde had managed to completely floor Judy Hopps. "Are...are you serious?" Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Oh, completely. No question." Wilde stuck his paws in his pockets and adopted a casual, lopsided stance. "Now I can't promise anything," he drawled with softened smug, eyes lingering off to the side. "Again. But I figure it's worth a-"

Judy darted forward without warning. Wilde yelped as his cool-guy persona shattered on impact. With tail poofed out and arms raised out to the sides, the bewildered fox stared down at the little bunny rabbit who had just thrown her arms around his torso. Now hugging him with all might. A wide-eyed Wilde didn't dare breathe.

Scratch what she thought before. Charming fox? More like _brilliant_!

Then it was over. Judy pulled back and away. Looked up at the fox and just... _beamed_. There were tears in the corners of those lavender eyes. "Thank you! Ohmygosh, thank you thank you _thank you_!" Pure gratitude poured out of her in a trembling squeal. "I don't know what to say! Is this really okay? Wh-what you said about parking duty, a-and now-!"

Somewhere along Judy's bliss-powered breakdown, Wilde found his footing again. He let out a polite laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Ho, wow, you're _really_ gung-ho about this, aren't you?" The fox peered down at her, seemingly impressed. Maybe just slightly intimidated as well.

"Yes! Oh, sweet cheese and crackers, this is _amazing_." Judy's giddy grin morphed into that special smile that her siblings called 'heroic.' She brought herself to attention as Wilde crossed his arms and marveled. "Sir, I promise this opportunity won't go to waste. Anything I can help with, on any case, I'll do it," she swore. "You can count on me."

"I'm sure we all can, Hopps," Wilde agreed, his smile a lot softer now. "It's the chief's call but…." Wilde leaned down a ways and winked. "Between you and me, how about you go ask Clawhauser to pull the Otterton file, hm? Tell him I asked for it."

Judy actually squeed a little, clasping her paws together under her chin and giving a joyful little hop. It was oh so bunny-like and right then she did not give a darn at all. With one last round of heartfelt thank-yous and a happy wave, Judy practically skipped off toward the stairs.

Leaving a thoughtful fox to his musings.

* * *

So.

 _That_ was Judy Hopps.

Nick Wilde watched her head off, just as happy as a fluffy little clam, and allowed himself one true smirk of genuine satisfaction. The bunny had gone and taken the bait. Hook line and sinker. It had barely even been a challenge on his part. Nick had known some schmucks over the years, but Hopps? There were words for her kind of mammal.

"Thunderously naive" were two of them. "Oblivious" was another.

Sure, to be fair, the bunny had shown a little suspicion early on. But in Nick's book that wasn't worth peanuts, because he knew exactly where the impulse was coming from. Neither street smarts nor personal savvy, oh no. The only thing Hopps had on her side was plain old bunny rabbit fear. Not very special, that.

The evidence was damning: A cannister of fox repellent. Liquid paranoia, as Nick liked to call it. Kept stowed away in a convenient snap-flapped holster. What mammal alive could miss the bright obnoxious pink that marked every lovely product of the famous Fox-Away brand? A favorite among bunnies everywhere. _The good stuff._

His sharp eyes had spotted the thing a mile away and Nick had almost turned on his heel right then and there. Left the bunny to sulk, alone and unaware. It would have been _so easy_. Just another setback in the life of Nicholas P. Wilde. Another disappointment. He was used to those. Nick would get over it and figure out a different approach, as always. It would just take time and effort. In the end, Nick would get what he needed-to some extent, anyway.

Yet, for whatever personal hang-ups the bunny might have, with Hopps lay rare possibility. A golden convergence of events that Nick just couldn't pass up. Life had taught him that real opportunity only knocked once, and he had delayed this rendezvous long enough.

Waiting a whole week had been a real gamble on his part, no doubt about it. But Nick had a talent for reading other animals. Bunnies, especially so. Hopps was everything her file had led Nick to expect-sans fox repellent, but that one was on him (that she hailed from some podunk farming town really should have tipped him off). Hopps being Hopps-academy superstar, symbol of progress, stubborn optimist-had pretty much ensured a rough landing here at the good old ZPD. It had taken seven days to grind the bunny down. To leave her feeling crushed and vulnerable. _Isolated_. Easy pickings for anyone who could lend a few kind words and a spark of hope. God, she had practically jumped right into his pocket after that.

Which led to some issues that Nick had _sort of_ expected but hadn't dwelled on too much.

Now there was a sliver of guilt needling his insides, and Nick didn't like it one bit. Oh, he _understood_ it well enough, sure. This was no big mystery to the fox. Hopps was like any other mammal out there...except when she wasn't. A dumb bunny one moment, and then an apologetic little mess the next-all for a fox like him. Just a high-minded kid trying to do the right thing and making mistakes along the way. Nick could respect that much, and he could certainly ask for a whole lot worse.

So, the heck with it. Nick had gone ahead with the plan. Hopps had played her part for the moment and was out of the way on a nonsense task. Mrs. Otterton had been right on time and even more inspiring than Nick could have hoped for. All of the pieces were falling neatly into place. Now it was time to finally go to bat with Bogo.

Nick grinned inside.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

 _I've been fiddling around with this idea for way too long now and am very happy to finally get it out into the open. As is quickly becoming a pattern with my writing, this chapter is far too long. Rest assured that future additions will be shorter. Both for the sake of narrative coherency and my own mental health. This is death of sanity by a thousand edits._

I want to thank my anonymous beta readers for all their time, comments, and suggestions. All of their input has been of the greatest value.


	2. Land Ho! Said the Fox, Land Ho!

**Disclaimer: Zootopia is owned by Disney. All characters and other content were used for the purpose of entertainment and not for profit.**

* * *

 _See bottom of page for author's notes._

* * *

Clawhauser gawked down at Judy as if she had just grown another head.

"Detective Wilde is _helping_ you?" The tubby cheetah leaned over the front desk as best he could. "To get on a case? The _Otterton_ case?"

"I know, right?" Judy's grin was all sunshine and butterflies and, heck, might as well throw a rainbow unicorn in there too. The bunny nearly hummed with excitement. "It's just so out of the blue," she marveled. "I know people make jokes about lucky rabbits' feet but this…." She shook her head and spread her paws. Judy's voice dropped into a quiet awe. "This, Clawhauser...is _destiny_."

The big cat's look was priceless. Judy burst out laughing, almost hunching over and clutching her gut. It was safe to say that she was in a _really_ good mood.

Clawhauser, apparently, did not share the sentiment. He tried to smile, but it was a limp little thing and its death came swiftly. "Oh, yeah, haha...hah…." His eyes darted off to the side as he flumped back into his chair and visibly deflated. "Destiny. _Right_."

"Aww, come on, Ben. This is great!" Judy compensated by hopping right up and perching herself on the edge of the desk. "I know it's _unconventional_ , skipping parking duty and all." She waved a paw around and shrugged, adopting a nonchalant air that lasted all of three seconds. Then she was right back to unbridled enthusiasm. "But this is a chance to do some real good! And!" Judy held up a digit. "And Bogo gets to see what I can _really_ do. Bonus~" she sang.

"Ohhh, he told you about the parking duty thing, huh?" Clawhauser winced and Judy balked.

"Ack, shoot! I wasn't supposed to-Ben, please! _Please_ don't tell Bogo. I don't want to get Detective Wilde in _any_ trouble." Judy gave him her best big bunny rabbit eyes. It was a cheap trick, playing up her inherent cuteness like that. Both plenty degrading and incredibly hypocritical. But, well, desperate times.

"Ben, he's been so nice to me," she pleaded.

What reservations Clawhauser held about defying Bogo on the matter promptly crumpled. "You know I won't," he sighed. A ghost of a smile crossed flabby face. "Disappointing my favorite bunny is just the worst thing ever."

Then the smile dropped and Clawhauser went for his signature Gazelle snowglobe. "And thaaaat's why I'm not going to enjoy this," he murmured, looking down into the sphere and nervously shaking up the white flakes. How they swirled around the miniature pop diva within was a minor distraction that helped take the edge off.

Judy's ears flopped down as her face, so briefly lifted in relief, fell back into a worried frown. "Ben?"

"Look, Judy…." Clawhauser struggled for a good way to put his thoughts into words. "I'm not going to say Detective Wilde isn't nice," he began, careful and slow. "He can be super charming. Just a real peach. And I don't think he's ever made fun of me. That's...kind of a surprise, honestly." The cheetah let out a chuckle he didn't really feel.

Judy listened attentively, her brow furrowed. Clawhauser met her eyes for just a moment. His gaze darted back down to the snow globe as a padded thumb caressed the glass. "It's just that I…." He sighed and worked up the courage. Both arms splayed off to the sides as he fixed Judy with an earnest gaze, one paw clutched protectively around his nicnak. "I hear things from the other officers, Judy. Things about Detective Wilde. A lot of things." His expression grew worried as his paws came back together to cradle the globe. "They aren't very good things."

Judy rolled her eyes and scoffed, adding a dismissive wave of her paw for good measure. "Come on, Ben, that's just office gossip. You live for that stuff, so no wonder you're hearing all that."

"That's _mean_ gossip, Judy," the cat clarified, frowning back a little now. He didn't feel affronted, just frustrated. "I'm just into the good, fun kind. When it comes to Wilde, there's just...nothing! No fun stories, no office crushes, no embarrassing secrets. The stuff I hear about him is always so dark and dismal and angry and I _hate it_." Clawhauser groaned loudly and finally set the snow globe back in its place.

He fixed Judy with an unhappy look that made her hesitate. "I just don't want you getting hurt."

The bunny regarded him for a silent moment. Then smiled softly and patted the top of a spotted paw. "Hey, relax. I'm a cop, remember? I can take care of myself. Besides, you said it yourself. Detective Wilde's a really nice guy. You've seen it, I've seen it."

Clawhauser wanted to reply that being nice and being good weren't necessarily one and the same. Instead, he chose a different path. "Yeah but, Judy…." He stole a longing glance at the empty donut box on his desk. He had foolishly polished off the last of its contents after today's visit from Mrs. Otterton. Eating was his coping mechanism. A pick-me-up for when he really needed it. Like right this moment.

"...There's just this, I don't know, this _distance_ to him, you know? Like he's charming and all, but you don't get the feeling he's being completely honest."

The bunny gave him a look. "Clawhauser, you're not saying he's shifty, are you?" It sounded a little more accusatory than Judy had intended, and her friend shrank back a bit. Quickly, she amended: "Not that I can blame you! That's exactly what I thought too, at first." It hadn't been her proudest moment, and her sheepishness reflected that fact.

"I...I don't know!" Clawhauser looked somewhere between ashamed and conflicted. "Maybe I am? But it's just so weird!" He shook his head in disbelief. "Detective Wilde's never offered help to _anyone_ before. _Never ever,_ Judy. And then, suddenly, this. I just don't know what to think." He slumped in his chair with a pout.

"Ben, listen." Judy's smile was sincere. "I think Detective Wilde is just a really private kind of mammal. I tried talking about his past some, but he seemed a little evasive. Maybe…." Judy worried at her lip. "Maybe he's kind of like me."

"Yeah?" Clawhauser didn't seem terribly convinced.

"Well, think about it," Judy pressed. "He's a non-traditional police mammal. Small, too. The first of his kind on the force. He's been all alone till now. If no one likes him, well, no one likes me either," she pointed out with a thankful little smile. "Except you, Ben."

"Oh hush," the large cat found himself chuckling, giving her an 'oh you' wave of his paw. "Everyone here just needs a little time. They'll warm up and then you'll be part of the family for real."

"Hopefully inside the next eight years," the bunny joked, kicking her dangling feet a bit. Then she sighed. "I dunno, Ben. It really feels to me like Wilde might be getting the short end of the stick because he's a fox. They're not the most popular mammals."

Clawhauser didn't look terribly happy, but his smile held up for her sake. "You really are an optimist, aren't you?" he marveled quietly.

Judy challenged him with a smirk. "Would you have it any other way?"

"Who, me? Nahhh." Clawhauser brightened up and shot her a cheery grin. He sat up straight again and held up both paws. "Okay, I've said my piece about the detective. Hopefully you're right and I'm wrong. If you're going ahead with this, I won't try to stop you."

Despite that, he did send Judy one more pleading look. She replied with a silent shake of the head. Nope, her mind was made up. Clawhauser sighed with his nose and stood up with a stretch. "Sooo, guess I'd better go fetch that file."

Judy dropped down to the floor as her friend stepped out from behind the desk. "I appreciate your input, Ben, really." She smiled up at him sincerely. "But for now I'm going to give Detective Wilde the benefit of the doubt. Shifty or not, he's the first one here who's giving me a real shot. I figure he deserves that much back."

She turned around and gazed up at Bogo's office, paws on her hips and chest out. Her "Supermammal" pose, as Clawhauser dubbed it. "I have faith in him, Ben," she assured, smirking with an unshakable resolve.

"That fox up there is going to put me on the Otterton case."

* * *

"You want me to put _you_ on the Otterton case," Bogo repeated, his face utterly devoid of expression. It wasn't a question. The chief was painfully certain he had heard Wilde correctly.

Detective Wilde smiled pleasantly, standing atop the chair in front of Bogo's desk to bring himself around eye-level with his boss. Ostensibly so that the hulking cape buffalo didn't have to strain his neck with all the glaring down he'd surely do. Both paws were clasped behind the fox's back.

"That's about the long and short of it, chief," Wilde agreed. He kept his tone carefully respectful. Enthusiastic, but respectful.

Bogo's brow descended into a glare. "For your sake, Wilde," he ground out, "this had better be another bad joke." A hooved finger stabbed the open folder on his desk. In the file were photos and papers detailing a small group of predators of every shape and size. "Need I remind you, we have fourteen high priority cases open right now. _Fourteen_ , Wilde!" He blew an angry snort through his nostrils. It would have sent the file's contents flying had he not been pinning them down.

The outburst passed and Bogo's voice lowered to a menacing growl. "And rather than doing something useful, you want to _dilly dally_." He let the words hang in the air, mocking the fox and daring him to interject. When Wilde didn't take the bait, his boss leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "When I made you a detective-not that I was given any choice!-it wasn't so you could waste department resources on a wild goose chase." Bogo jerked his finger up and toward the map on his wall. "I need you out in the field, getting real work done."

"And I will be doing just that, chief," Nick assured. His tone and posture shifted toward conciliatory. Earnest, even, or at least something close to it. Not pleading, though. That would never fly with Bogo. The buffalo knew the fox, and the fox knew the buffalo. "Just give me a chance to sell you on it. That's all I'm asking."

Bogo regarded his subordinate in silence, with eyes narrowed and lip curled as he considered the offer. Finally, Bogo spoke. "What's your angle on this, Wilde?"

"Angle, chief?" The fox was all innocence then, his smile inquisitive. "I'm just trying to help a poor little otter find her own poor little otter. You know, serve and protect. All that jazz."

He reached for a candy from the bowl on Bogo's desk and the buffalo promptly slapped it away. Wilde made a show of wincing and shaking his paw. Neither of them commented on the matter further; it had become a sort of ritual between them after Wilde had gifted Bogo the bowl some time ago. None of the candies had been touched in the years since and the wrappers were gathering dust.

"Don't be cute, Wilde," Bogo grunted. "You are trying to circumvent my orders. I do not appreciate that. Nor did I the last five times you pulled this stunt."

"Four, sir."

"It was five, Wilde." Bogo kept his voice even. Somehow. "I kept a list. Would you like to see it?" His smile was dangerously insincere.

The fox snapped his fingers. "Ah. Right, the Kingfisher case. Forgot about that one. My bad, chief."

"Of course you did."

The noise Bogo let out was something between a sigh and a groan. Then the buffalo fixed on Wilde with a look that was both very unhappy and supremely flat. "Once again, we find ourselves at an impasse. You want something, and I don't want to give it." Here an edge of steel crept its way into his voice. "What I _should_ do is throw you out on your bushy red tail and tell you to do your _job_!"

A heavy hoof came down on the desk with a thud. Wilde's ears flinched back a fraction, but his expression didn't change. He stayed silent; Bogo wasn't through yet, and any attempt to interrupt would only invite more anger. This was a delicate balancing act for the fox. Bogo wasn't an emotionally complicated guy, and it wasn't hard to-not to manipulate, no. That wasn't the right word because it implied some level of control. Bogo wasn't hard to _guide_. That being said, this was still very much playing with fire. It's what gave the venture its thrill.

"But." Bogo ground his teeth. "Hindsight being what it is, I suspect you would just go about making a nuisance of yourself. _Again._ "

Bogo's tone indicated he expected a confirmation. Wilde shrugged noncommittally. "Well, I don't mean to be a bother chief. It's just my duty, you know?" His smile was oh so very punchable right then. And the hulking cape buffalo could have easily driven the fox through a wall, if he wanted. He wasn't completely opposed to the idea at that particular moment. "Section 8, subsection 3, paragraph 5a of the operating manual clearly states that I am obligated, as an officer of the ZPD, to report any and all workplace violations of policy and protocol to my precinct's superior officer," he cited confidently. "That he or she might work toward correction of the issue. And then up the chain of command as needed."

Bogo's eyes were slits now, and his tone clipped. "Yes. I am _intimately_ aware of this _particular_ regulation. _Wilde_. You have shown _considerable_ effort in following it. From time to time."

Wilde shrugged, his tone easy and smooth. "What can I say, chief? You run a tight ship. It'd be a real shame if things fell through the cracks."

Bogo's ears splayed back. He squeezed his eyes shut. Counted to ten. Opened them. Still wanted to chuck the fox out his office window. Gravity would do the rest. Then they would all be free of Wilde's infuriating by-the-book antics forever.

Not for the first time-no, not by a long shot-Bogo thought he understood why some mammals murdered each other.

"And the reams upon reams of paperwork you create for us all?" Bogo asked with all the careful control he could muster.

Wilde shrugged helplessly. "Evils of bureaucracy, chief. Paperwork comes with the territory."

"How very pragmatic of you," Bogo seethed. The fox just smiled back as if this wasn't a hostage negotiation of his own design. There were no lives at stake here. Just workplace efficiency, the well being of Wilde's fellow officers, and Bogo's sanity.

The buffalo let out a long, frustrated growl. It petered out into a sigh of heated resignation. "Were that I could fire you over this," he grumbled.

The trouble was that Wilde didn't just know the right rules; he knew the right mammals, too. Important mammals who had his back. Who would ensure that Bogo could not rid himself of the fox under any but the most legitimate of circumstances. Meaning Wilde could effectively toe the line all he wanted as long as he never quite took that last step and crossed it. And he had a real talent for that indeed.

"I don't suppose you would take an early retirement?" There was no hope in Bogo's voice. That particular feeling had died out years ago, and resurrecting it around Wilde would only invite unnecessary pain.

"Full pension and everything?" Wilde perked up his ears before dismissing it with a chuckle. "Come on, chief, there's too much to do first. Like, say, finding a missing otter." He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. Cheeky red bastard.

Bogo cast his eyes heavenward. "Aslan above," he muttered. " _Fine_. You want to convince me, so make your case." The buffalo reclined back in his chair and threw a sarcastic hoof. "Thrill me, Detective Wilde."

"Gladly, sir." Wilde favored his boss with an indulgent smile. "So, I'm sure you've noticed I'm not the most popular mammal on the force."

"I wonder whose fault that is," Bogo drawled. There was no looming threat to it; the buffalo's anger had collapsed into annoyance and apathy.

Wilde took that for the aside that it was and kept his pitch rolling. "Thing is, chief, I just made detective. Whatever case you give me, I'll be in charge of its team. It'll be my first time calling the shots out in the field. And I'm thinking the rest of the guys-and Francine-they're not going to like that too much." He had the decency to look just a little contrite. "I'm kind of insufferable."

"Well, we actually agree on something. Will wonders never cease?" Bogo snarked. In truth, he really did agree. None of the other officers liked Wilde that much at all. They had been dreading the day he finally came back from his post-promotion leave and took command of a case-and dreaded it rightly so, in Bogo's book.

"There are going to be a lot of ruffled feathers," Wilde continued, pacing in what little space the chair allowed. He kept his eyes on the buffalo and gestured with his paws. "Lots of friction. It's going to bog everything down and...hey, you're right! These cases are _very_ urgent. We can't afford any delays, chief." The fox's expression and tone both grew serious. "But that's exactly what we'll get if you put me on any other case."

"And now he shows his hand," grunted Bogo, not looking particularly impressed. "The Otterton case has no assigned officers. Ergo, there is no better place I can put you. Correct?"

Wilde snapped a finger and pointed it at his boss with a grin. He threw his other arm over the back of the chair and leaned back. "Got it in one, chief."

Bogo huffed through his nostrils. The flavor of his gaze teetered toward suspicion. "It seems you've forgotten a crucial detail, Wilde." Under the circumstances, a mammal might expect Bogo to sound triumphant, or at least a little smug. Said expectant mammal would not have known Wilde as the chief did. His tone was instead one of caution.

"No detective can be assigned a case without at least one supporting officer." Bogo leaned forward and folded his fingered hooves atop the desk. "That has been the standard ZPD operating protocol for the last five years. It is not an obscure regulation," he added, allowing himself to goad the fox just a tad.

Wilde stuck his free paw in a pocket and nodded, a rather bland smirk in place. He shrugged his shoulders. "Not seeing the problem, chief."

"The _problem_ is that all of my officers are busy with their own cases. And I am _not_ pulling any of them away in the middle of an active investigation." Bogo would put his hoof down about that, at least. Very firmly. Wilde should know he couldn't get him on that. "Besides, you said it yourself." He gestured toward the fox. "They all hate you, so there's no point and you are _wasting my time_."

"Hate's a strong word, chief," chuckled Wilde. "But you're right...and also wrong." He waited for Bogo to shoot him a 'you had best explain because I am getting tired of this game' glare, grinning all the while. "Cause I know there's still _one_ officer here without a case."

Bogo was not a stupid mammal. Big, burly, and stubborn, but blessed with the intelligence demanded for the leadership of Precinct One. It took him maybe half a moment to realize where the fox leading.

Bogo's eyes bulged. His nostrils flared.

The snarl that followed could be the envy of lions.

"NO!" he boomed. Slammed his fists down and surged to his feet. "Absolutely not! She is an overconfident rookie. Brash! Untested! As green as they come!" Bogo towered over Wilde, all thunder and fury. The fox, for all his smug self-assurance, could not stand up to that. He shrank back into the chair, eyes wide. More on reflex than fear; he'd have to have been a fool not to expect this. But it gave Bogo an advantage to press. He jabbed a finger toward Wilde's chest and brought his voice back down to a growl.

"Letting Hopps out into the field, at this juncture, is completely irresponsible. And against my own procedure, so let's add disrespectful to the list, shall we?" The look Bogo gave was sour as lemons. He snorted in disgust. " _Of course_ you're the one who's all for it."

Wilde had the good sense to avert his eyes and lower his ears as the chief laid into him. Pacifying Bogo's temper, just so long as he needed, demanded at least a hint of humility. But letting the buffalo run roughshod all over him would be a mistake. Thus, here it was. The make-it-or-break-it moment Wilde had been waiting for. As his gaze flicked back up, the fox chose his next move with deliberate care.

He sucked in a breath, held it, and let the silence build between them.

"Well?" demanded Bogo.

Wilde shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. His response came forth in a slow sigh.

"You know what, chief? You're right."

That got Bogo to blink and arch a brow at least. He said nothing as Wilde pushed himself back upright and clasped his paws together. The buffalo's gaze dripped with skepticism, but the anger had given way to a something akin to morbid interest. Just what would this shifty little fox try next? It was the opening Wilde needed.

"Hopps isn't ready for the big time yet. We both get it." Wilde clicked his tongue and tilted his head back toward the door. He shot Bogo a look of understanding. The name of the game now was reason and sympathy. "But...that bunny sure doesn't, huh chief?"

Those deep-set eyes narrowed to pinpricks. "I'll admit to being curious about how you know that," Bogo replied evenly, with both hooves on the table and fingers drumming away on the wood.

"Huh. Me being outside the loop. That's a new one," Wilde chuckled, albeit quietly. His eyes twinkled as he hauled himself up atop the chair back and parked himself upon its edge. The fox hunched forward, taking on a more conspiratorial air. "Come on, who doesn't hear things around here, chief? Word on the beat is that Hopps is your new favorite." Wilde's tone was light and teasing, but not quite enough to rouse the buffalo's anger anew. Bogo just huffed and shook his head.

"She is something of a pain," he allowed, gruffly.

"Hopps wants to prove herself," Wilde agreed with a nod. "And she's probably going to try doing just that, all on her own. We both know she's the type," he pressed. "It's only a matter of time."

Bogo reached up with both hooves and rubbed at his temples. "I have considered the possibility, detective," he sighed. "But that is a bridge yet uncrossed."

" _Or_ ," Wilde offered with a knowing bob of his head. "Or, to save you a fortune on Tylionol-and the ZPD a possible lawsuit-we head this one off at the pass." The fox pointed to himself with both paws. "Let me have her for the case, chief. It'll be a test run. She gets her carrot while I hold the stick. We'll both be out on something nice and safe and out of your tail hair for a while." Wilde turned one side of his head to the chief, eying him intently. "Tell me that's not a good deal."

"What I could tell you is-" Bogo paused as a thought struck home. He pursed his lips and frowned at the fox. Then out at nothing. And then, slowly, he smiled. It was not a friendly smile.

Wilde had to fight down a sudden bout of nerves.

"...That I might see the merit of such an arrangement," Bogo continued, turning that calculating gaze upon Wilde. He leaned forward onto his elbows. "So, detective. You're telling me you can _personally guarantee_ that Hopps will stay out of trouble while under your wing?"

Wilde fought down the urge to gulp and nodded, a confident smirk plastered across his muzzle. "That's the idea, chief."

"Ah ah," the buffalo warned with a lifted finger and just the nastiest grin Wilde had ever seen. If not for the uniform, Bogo could have passed for a particularly vicious loan shark. "Not good enough. I want a promise, Wilde. I want your word that nothing will come across my desk about how our latest recruit bungled her job."

The fox tried not to hesitate. "And if she does?"

Bogo did his best to emulate Wilde's patented shrug-and-smirk. It came off as less flippant and more malicious. "Then she will have proven me right on all counts. And will be put back on parking duty...for a further three months, _if I am feeling generous._ " He let that sink in before continuing. "Of course, as you are the leading investigator on this case, Hopps' failings will fall on your shoulders. Which I will _surely_ remember come time for the annual evaluations."

Then Bogo sighed in false sympathy. "Without her help, the Otterton case will be dead in the water. You will be given an assignment which I have deemed worth the department's time." He set his chin on a hoof and blinked lazily at the fox. "The rules being what they are."

Well, shoot. As far as stipulations went, Wilde knew this wasn't a favorable one. Not given what he knew of the head-strong Hopps. He tried appealing to the chief's sense of fair-play. Something which the fox would later admit was an obvious mistake.

"Chief, that seems a little vindictive toward Hopps-"

"Wilde." Bogo fixed him with a flat look. His voice had gone carefully quiet. "This is a take-it-or-leave-it offer. I am _tired_ of this and _will not_ discuss the matter further. Do you understand?"

The detective opened his mouth to reply. Then closed it and nodded. The confident smirk made its return. "Crystal clear as always, chief. It's a deal."

"Splendid. Get the case file from Clawhauser and then get to work. I don't want to see you back in my office for the next week _at least_."

With that, Bogo slipped on his glasses and turned his attention back to the folder on his desk. It was a silent dismissal, and Wilde took it without comment. He was out of the seat and at the door when Bogo called after him.

"Wilde."

The fox paused, a paw on the doorknob. He glanced back over his shoulder without pulling his arm back down.

"Yeah, chief?"

The water buffalo regarded Wilde calmly, his gaze cool and direct. The words that followed were slow and deliberate and spoken with an unquestionable conviction.

"You're going to slip up someday."

Wilde blinked, and Bogo didn't. The buffalo went on.

"Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but someday. And when that happens…"

Bogo slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving the fox. "...None of your friends in high places will be there to save you. Not even Bellwether. But _I will_ be there, to make sure you get _everything_ that's coming to you. Best remember that."

Bogo had the satisfaction of seeing Wilde's smile tighten at the corners. "Will do, chief."

And then Wilde was gone. Out of the office with a swish of his bushy tail and a click of the doorknob. Bogo glared after him for a good long while. Then he went back to his notes, tapping at the photo of one Emmet Otterton and thinking black thoughts about red foxes.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Like I said before, trying to keep the word count lower for these newer chapters. Hopefully the narrative flow hasn't suffered as a result, but I invite critique and commentary on that or any other matter you can think of. It's the only way for me to improve.**

 **Here's a shout-out to all you cool folks who commented, followed, and/or favorited. The interest in this story so far has been great, and I want to keep on entertaining anyone who gives it a shot.**

 **Last but in no way least, a big round of applause for WyvernsWeaver, who was awesome and drew up the story's new cover art. Check out his deviantart profile for that and another neat piece depicting an upcoming scene (mild spoiler warning), plus other cool pics.**


	3. Shiny Tricks

**Author's Note: I am so sorry this took so long. Please see the chapter's end for further notes.**

* * *

The trip from the chief's office to the elevators was a short one, but it still gave Nick time to ponder his next move.

All things considered, his tidy little outline of a plan was coming together quite nicely. Sure, the chief had gone and dropped one hell of a bomb in his lap. But the the buffalo had still given his blessing, reluctant as it was, which meant the only real hurdle left was a certain rambunctious rabbit.

So, on that front, the reynard schemed.

Nick didn't do rigid, detailed plans. Too many complications. Backup plans stacked atop backup plans, ad infinitum, until the whole house of cards fell in on itself; Murphy's Law in action. The key was staying flexible. Not flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants chaos, but striking a certain balance had always served the fox well.

Or nearly always, but no need to dwell on that now. Because today would not be an "almost" scenario. Nick was at the top of his game, and he intended to stay there. All the way to the end.

If he'd done his homework right-and Nick usually did-the best play was to roll Hopps hard and fast. Rabbits were a quick bunch by nature, and this one was, from what he'd read, one of the best. But Nick? He was a fox. Stereotypes aside, foxes knew how to handle rabbits. It was in the blood. Always had been. Always would be.

Now? Time to embrace those instincts.

The elevator slid to a stop with a soft chime. The doors pulled open and Nick stepped into the lobby proper, sporting his easiest smile. Fortune promptly smiled back. There was Hopps, at the foot of the empty front desk and anxiously awaiting his return. The moment their eyes met, Hopps lit up with a hopeful grin. Excellent. Nick didn't waste any time.

"I come bearing glad tidings," the fox declared as he approached, both arms thrown out to the sides. Then he ducked down, paws on his knees, bringing himself to eye level with the rabbit. An indulgent wink topped it all off. "Congratulations, Hopps. We have the Otterton case."

Those words, Wilde could tell, had just made her day. Two ears stood tall as a cotton tail wiggled. Then came what had to be one of the the giddiest bunny hops he'd ever seen. The rabbit threw both arms up in the air. "Yes!"

Nick merely responded with a pleasant chuckle as he swept on past, smooth as silk. Silently counting down the moments until one particular little detail hit home.

To Hopps' credit, it didn't take long. Nick could almost hear her expression drop like a stone.

"Wait…."

Nick glanced back over his shoulder with feigned curiosity. "Something wrong, Hopps?"

He watched a clearly troubled Hopps gesture back and forth between the two of them. "You said we? As in the two of us?" A hesitant pause ensued. "As in, plural?"

There's the curve ball….

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet already," said the fox, pretending to miss the implication. Somehow, because Hopps had all the subtle grace of a rudderless aircraft carrier. "Sure, meter maid to cop is a big jump. But this is what you wanted, right?" He swung around, slapping a paw up against the front desk and leaning upon it. With a quirked brow and a nod up at the balconies above, Nick went on. "Or am I wrong and all that up there was a total waste of time?"

Butting heads with Hopps, the fox knew, wouldn't work. Not. One. Bit. Every piece of research told Nick that she'd been fighting that kind of adversity all her life. She knew it intimately. Understood how to beat it...or thought as much, anyway. Going head-to-head with the rabbit only invited more problems. Needling that apparent guilt complex of hers, on the other paw? That worked wonders.

He watched as the bunny bristled. "What? No, no! Of course it's….no, it wasn't a waste of time, sir. No." She cleared her throat. Bounced on her heels. Clenched and unclenched her paws as she worked through her nerves. "I just thought, you know, that uh…."

Hopps swings. She misses.

"Oh." Nick snapped his ears up high, as if realization had just struck home. "Ohhhh, I see…." He tilted his head in a show of bemusement, his words kept slow and thoughtful. "You thought you'd be flying this one solo, huh? Now how in the name of Noah did you get an idea like that?" He scoffed in apparent wonderment. "I mean, don't get me wrong. Loving the vote of confidence, really, but I'm just a haggler. And you, Hopps? You are one heck of a tough sell." Nick threw in a paw gesture. "Think about it: Our good Chief Bogo, sending his newest recruit out on her own? Into the big bad city, with no experience and zero backup?" He dialed up the incredulity. "Talk about praying for miracles."

He watched Hopps hesitate. Watched as her frown built and her violet eyes flicked about, the quick little gears in her head going to work. The bunny likely thought there was some way to fix this latest setback. To get what she'd ever so clearly wanted all this time: The Otterton case in her paws and done her way. It would be an accomplishment all her own, so that everyone could see just how amazing one little bunny could be after all.

Such a shame how that didn't fit into his plans. Ambush predator that he was, Nicholas Wilde already had his trump card at the ready. Had it since the very beginning, in fact. Poor naive little Officer Hopps had never stood a chance.

"Look, I know it's not exactly a blue ribbon at the county fair," the fox consoled, a sympathetic smile firmly in place. "But isn't helping Otterton the important thing?"

Then, there it was. The sledgehammer of guilt, coming down and smashing the rabbit's resistance to smithereens. Really, how could she even think of being so selfish at a time like this? He watched her wince and cringe back, opening her mouth to apologize.

Nick took the initiative. "Nah-ah. No more of that, Hopps," he scolded, wagging a digit. "Hate to pull rank on you right off the bat, but this is a direct order. I need my protégé to have her head in the game, one-hundred percent."

A parade of expressions marched across the bunny's face. Something close to blind-sided bafflement brought up the rear. "Protégé?"

"There's that boundless enthusiasm again," Nick teased, not needing to fake his sly grin at all. Watching a flustered Hopps check herself-again and again-really was a treat.

"I'm sorry, sir, it's...a lot to take in," the rabbit managed. "I mean, this is all happening so fast. We just met this morning, and now you're suddenly my boss?"

"Mentor, actually." The reynard exchanged his smirk for something more encouraging. "See, this little outing of ours is sort of a package deal. Because-surprise-the Chief wasn't too enthralled with our Otterton scenario. I might have gone and sweetened the pot a little. Hope that's not an issue."

With that, Nick had just put the ball back squarely in the rabbit's court, right where he preferred it. A sprinkle of honesty here, a smack of guilting there, and any pesky, potentially problematic questions were put on hold. Then there was the ever-so-useful implication that he'd saved the case with some quick thinking and reasonable concessions. As if he hadn't planned on Hopps playing second fiddle from day one. Leverage was leverage; clearly, the rabbit had every reason to be grateful.

So grateful she proved to be.

"Oh, no. No, not a problem at all, sir," the bunny quickly assured, perking right back up with remarkable speed. "I mean, if you got Bogo's okay, then where's the sense in complaining, right?" She smiled bravely, clasping her paws together with a soft clap. Nick judged her to be sufficiently sincere-he could make this work.

"Right! Okay, then! Mentor and protégé," Hopps went on, not missing a beat. Her eyes never left the fox. "I'm not sure how this is supposed to work."

Nick gave his patented smirk-and-shrug combo. "It's Easy Street, Hopps. You just follow my lead, play things by the book, and be a good little cop. Once we close the case, I hand in a glorified report card. If all went well-and here's hoping-somebunny's getting a metaphorical gold star on her record. Might be a nice little career booster. Just saying."

Another implication, that. Nick couldn't very well promise the chief's appreciation. His ongoing apathy was always the safer bet. But Hopps seemed the hopeful type. Nick watched as she connected the dots into a shape that pleased her, still without any apparent road bumps. Good. More green lights were always welcome.

The deal was sealed with one adorably earnest salute. "Then I guess that I'll have to prove you right, sir," Hopps declared, virtually brimming with determination. "You have my axe!"

Now that got a genuinely puzzled head-tilt out of Nick. "Come again?"

"You know," prompted Hopps. "Lord of the Ringtails?"

Nick scratched at his somewhat scruffy neck fur and pondered. "I don't remember the line."

"It's a pretty famous one."

"In my defense, I haven't read the books in a while."

Hopps blinked. "The-? No, sir, I'm pretty sure it's from the movies."

Nick blinked right back. "There were movies?"

"Uhh, guys? Am I interrupting something?"

Fox and bunny turned in unison to stare up at an obviously uncomfortable Clawhauser. How the portly feline had managed to sneak up on two pairs of highly sensitive ears, Nick didn't know. Chalk it up to a particularly distracting bunny, the reynard supposed. He watched as Clawhauser's eyes ping-ponged between the two of them. Then, slowly, the cheetah leaned down to offer-

"The case file!" The sight of that red folder got a squeal of delight from Hopps. Nick's fleeting look of amusement tempered that right quick. "Er, I mean...oh, look! The case file! Isn't that nice, sir?" She clasped her paws together over her lap, smiling and waiting. The red folder hovered before her, awkwardly untaken.

Nick reached forward to fix that, only for Clawhauser to snatch it back out of reach. Oof, talk about your faux pas. Because now there was a pair of fox paws left empty, and at the fault of an officer that Nick technically outranked. At the fox's lifted brow, Clawhauser winced and flinched back.

"Sorry! I mean sorry, Detective Wilde, sir! It's just that, you know, I thought you wanted me to get the file for Judy," the cheetah babbled. "I mean, for Officer Hopps! Not Judy. I mean, yes, she's...she's Judy, yeah. But calling her that here at work, in front of you, that's, ah, that's just...so...unprofessional...heh. Right?" That big wobbly smile concealed Clawhauser's worry about as well as did his awfully strained laughter. If anyone here could beat Hopps in the feelings-on-sleeves department, it was Benjamin Clawhauser. Which made rolling him just as easy.

The fox kept his smile supremely patient and his paws clasped behind his back. His eyes, however, swiveled toward Hopps with a hint of awkward pleading. All by design, of course. Time to see how far that touted loyalty of hers really went.

Hopps did not disappoint. "Actually, Ben, it's not really my case anymore. Or never was, I guess." Her smile barely wavered, and her shrug held only the barest hint of resignation. The rabbit had rallied well; Nick couldn't help feeling a little impressed. It seemed there was hope for this one after all. "I'm following Detective Wilde's lead-"

"-while I show Officer Hopps the ropes," Nick finished, jerking a thumb in her direction. "Chief just greenlit a nice little test flight for Hopps here. All we need is that file and then we're good to go."

"Oh," murmured the cheetah, quietly and without any trace of happiness. Only hesitation in the face of utter defeat. Mercifully, it didn't last long. "Then...I guess this really is yours after all."

Nick took the proffered folder with a pleased nod. "Thanks a ton, Ben. And don't look so worried. I'll be taking good care of her."

Maybe it was something in his tone or look, but Clawhauser apparently thought it reason enough for near panic. The cat swallowed it back when Judy shot him a look of well-meant warning. "That's good to hear, sir," he managed, tightly. "I'll hold you to that."

Huh. Was that a veiled threat? From Ben, of all mammals? Interesting. Laughable, but interesting. Nick filed the incident away for later

"Hey, no worries. It's me, remember?" With that final parting shot of a wink-because for poor Clawhauser looking after his bunny buddy, what else could it be?-Nick twirled on a heel and set off for the lobby doors. "Shall we hop to it, Officer Hopps?"

Nick could almost hear the silent argument playing out behind his back. Clawhauser's last-minute pleading clashing up against Hopps' iron determination. Nick knew the bunny wouldn't budge. Indulging that paranoia and dissatisfaction would be feeding her own ego-at least, that's how Hopps would see it. Even worse, it would be the betrayal of a promise. Hopps, he decided, was in too far to abide that. Perfect.

The bunny's bickering let him crack open the case file for a cursory once-over, unmolested. Everything inside was about what he'd expected, so no last-minute surprises there. He snapped the folder shut the moment Hopps caught up, denying her even a glance over his shoulder. Well, around it, anyway.

What he offered instead was a challenge.

"Alright, now we're on the clock. Which means that your evaluation starts...right…" Nick glanced at an imaginary wristwatch as he ushered his charge out the door and into the mid-morning sunlight. "...now! Okay, Hopps, time for a pop quiz." They paused there, right on the station doorstep, and Wilde deftly secured the folder under an arm. "Let's see how well you know your districts. What can you tell me about Sahara Square?"

Hit Hopps hard and fast. Keep the bunny off-balance. The reynard's strategy was still working like a charm, leaving the rabbit fumbling for good half-second. "Oh, uh, well, it's definitely hot-" She sighed at Nick's tease of a chuckle. "The hottest, driest biome in Zootopia. It generates more tourism revenue for the city than all other districts combined. It also has the highest property premiums and cost-of-living expenses, especially within a mile of the Palm Tree Hotel."

"Oh, very good, Hopps. Very good." Nick rewarded her with a nodding smirk of approval. "Now where did you pick all that up from?"

The bunny practically beamed at the compliment. Nick had expected nothing less. The sudden hint of embarrassment, however, was an interesting twist. "I might have picked up a few city guidebooks over the years."

"A long-time fan of our fair city, then," Nick remarked. The reynard barely held back a scoff. Personally, he found the notion absurd. Leave it to naive little bunnies, Nick supposed. "Wow, I guess living here must be a dream come true, huh?" An aloof glance up the station walls hid a mistrustful look. "With some exceptions, I'm guessing."

Hopps' ears drooped noticeably. "It's...not exactly what I expected," she admitted, with some hesitation.

"Rarely is," Nick agreed, making sure to flash a sympathetic smile. "Now, you said the Chief kept you on the Central circuit, right?" He threw in a nod for the both of them. "Add to that the usual meter maid hours and one case of crippling depression-don't deny it, Hopps, we were both there-and I'd wager you haven't done much exploring yet. Am I right?"

Those bunny ears went right back up. "It really took them eight years to promote you, huh?"

It'd be flattery coming from anyone else. Nick waved off the thought. "Yeah, but your job prospects are probably better these days. Anyway, I think I see your problem. You're still a country gal living in the big city. Still feeling like an outsider. We need to get you cosmopolinated."

Her confused muzzle scrunch was, frankly, cute as hell. "That's...I don't think that's a real word."

"It's a portmanteau of 'cosmopolitan' and 'pollinated.' Fits the occasion pretty well, don't you think?" Nick wiggled his brow.

"But it's not a real word...sir."

Stubborn bunny. Still adorable. She'd be a hoot at scrabble games. Maybe it was a huge rabbit family thing? Nick liked to imagine as much.

"I don't see what the big deal is. Shakesbear did this kind of thing all the time." The fox followed up his shrug with a smirk. "Point is, we're going to broaden your horizons a little. And this particular horizon is desert-themed." With that, he brought his paws together with a clap and a rub. "Now we just need a ride."

Right on cue, they came to a stop at the edge of the police lot. The two mammals gazed out across the wavy rows of black and white cruisers. Most were monstrously huge, the true alpha predators of the Zootopian roadways. A few were scaled for wolves, just a smidgen too large for Nick. For Hopps, of course, every choice was hopeless. Not that she seemed to get that. In fact, the moment she'd set foot on the lot, the bunny had gone and perked right back up. Arms happily swaying at her sides and everything.

"Which one is ours?"

"None of them." Nick headed off her look of betrayal with an upheld digit, a patient smile playing at his lips. "The budgeting office was never going to approve a police cruiser sized for just one mammal. Which worked, because I don't mind riding shotgun." That smile became a smirk as he nudged the rabbit's shoulder with an elbow. "Buuut, fun fact about making detective? You get certain privileges. Like, say, the use of one's own civilian vehicle. We'll be riding in style."

That turned the bunny's frown upside down, alright. Too bad Nick was playing roller coaster attendant just then. Her ride of a day was far from over.

"...Is what I would say if my car wasn't in the shop." Not that it been part of the plan. But that just proved his point about keeping things flexible.

Hopps furrowed her brow in confusion. "So how are we supposed to get to Sahara Square, then? The subway station's back the other way."

Nick smiled brightly. "Easy one, Hopps. We're taking your car."

"My car? Sir, I don't have...a…." Gentle puzzlement shifted into abject horror. "Oh, no, sir, please. You can't be serious."

"Desperate times, Hopps," the fox sang, headed off in exactly the one direction he knew the rabbit dreaded most. And then there it was, wedged into a tiny corner of the lot. The Three-Wheeled Jokemobile, as Nick had long ago taken to calling it. Not the same make or model as the one he'd been stuck with, but the basics were all there. Tiny. Looked ridiculous. Easy to wreck. Still probably couldn't even hit twenty miles per hour.

Behind Nick, his protégé groaned into her paws. "Whyyyyy?"

"Because Otterton, Hopps." The fox lifted the shared bench seat and dropped the folder into the shallow storage bin hidden beneath. Out of sight, out of mind. Then he hunkered down and tried to make himself comfortable. Ah, smaller and even more cramped than his old one. Wonderful development. He rolled his shoulders a bit. "We all have to make sacrifices."

Hopps glared at the cart for a moment longer, then wordlessly took her place behind the steering wheel. "Fine," she sighed, resigned to her fate. "Where to?"

"Nowhere you've been, Hopps. But worry not: You've got the best navigator in all of Zootopia. I know this city like the back of my paw."

The bunny started up the electric motor and they slowly puttered their way down the rows, toward the lot exit. "And this place is…?"

Nick snapped his digits and pointed onward, all drama and no accuracy. Sahara Square was, in fact, in the exact opposite direction. "Mystic Springs Oasis. Real ritzy place, where certain mammals go to relax in certain ways. Also, coincidentally, the last known location of our elusive otter." Nick pulled his favorite pair of slim black sunglasses from a coat pocket and slipped them on. In his peripheral vision, watched Hopps purse her lips in thought.

"So, it's like a kind of health club or something?"

Nick fought with all his might not to crack up right then and there. "Oh, it's, uh...it sure is something, alright." He bit down on a wobbling smile and looked away so Hopps couldn't see.

Gaze kept dutifully forward as they pulled out of the lot, Hopps nonetheless spared him the briefest glance.

The fox was ever so glad to be wearing sunglasses. "Let's just say, this'll blow those horizons of yours wide open."

"What, are they, like…." Hopps tensed in her seat, eyes wide. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "...Using drugs?"

This time, Nick did laugh. Hard. Oh, poor baby bunny bumpkin. Too pure for this world.

"No, Hopps. Nothing-snrk-nothing like that." Nick wiped away a tear. "All I'm saying is, there might be a little bit of, ah…." He chuckled as the tip of his tail gave a waggle. "Culture shock."

* * *

Praise Aslan for custom all-climate uniforms, because Judy didn't think she could survive Sahara Square without her own. Not even with the pair of natural radiators atop her head. The "Jokemobile" didn't exactly come with climate control options. Not even a working fan. So the pair had made do in their own ways. Wilde, by shedding his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Judy, by listening as the fox spun his yarns. Eight years worth of tales, told with all the talent of a master narrator. It proved a welcome distraction from the overbearing heat pervading the district. In Judy's book, unfortunate surprises in transit methods aside, it was a pretty nice little jaunt.

The ride that came after, not so much.

"You're mad, aren't you?"

Judy Hopps, officer-under-evaluation, chose her answer carefully. She also kept her eyes planted on the road ahead. It was the responsible, professional thing to do, after all. Best not to make waves right now...even if she really, really wanted to.

"I'm not mad, sir."

From over those slim black shades, Wilde sent her a look drier than all of Sahara Square. "Wow. That was convincing."

Judy pursed her lips. In that moment, it wasn't hard to recall Pop Pop's dire warnings about wily vulpine tricksters in coats of red: Hell, the ancient rabbit had often rambled, was a place of heat and horror. Where smug foxes delighted in the torment of hapless bunnies. Judy would always roll her eyes at that. Those were the backwards ideas of a generation gone by, with no place in the modern world. Now she knew better. There was no fire, nor any brimstone, but everything else had more or less panned out.

Especially the fox bit.

"Culture shock," Judy suggested, "was an interesting choice of words."

"Oh, come on, Hopps." With one arm slung across the cart's shared backrest and smirk curving his muzzle, Wilde looked the very picture of casual ease. Sounded it, too. "You've gotta admit, it was pretty funny."

The rabbit kept her tone diplomatic...or at least tried to. A little passive aggression might have leaked through. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, sir."

"A little funny," Wilde insisted, and Judy let the matter drop. There were other carrots to cook.

"Sir, not that I'm, you know, questioning your methods or anything. We do have a lead, now..."

A solid lead, hopefully, but that was up in the air for now. They had radioed in the licence plate number, only to discover the motor registration database was down for scheduled maintenance. Fortunately, Wilde knew a guy who worked in records and was just a phone call away. Less fortunately, digging up any hard copies was going to take a while. A long while, according to Wilde. Then he'd gone and decided the best way to burn time was with a little sight seeing. To broaden Judy's horizons, the fox had said. Familiarize her with the streets she'd be protecting.

The long scenic route had just given Judy time to stew on the matter at-paw, and now it had come to a head. "...But, sir, why on Earth didn't you warn me about that?"

That, of course, referred to an impromptu throng of stark naked animals. Into which a thoroughly red-eared Judy had dutifully plunged, following in the wake of one remarkably unflustered fox. Much to his obvious-and clearly ongoing-amusement.

"Waste of an opportunity, Hopps. Let's call it a pop quiz." That smirk definitely wasn't going anywhere fast. "This is an evaluation, and I wanted to evaluate." A one-shouldered shrug followed. "Ergo, I evaluated. Threw you in the deep end to see if you'd sink or swim. And, hey, you swam. Congrats."

Judy didn't think her eyebrows could arch any higher. Wilde, naturally, caught on quick.

"Sensing a little skepticism, there," noted the fox.

"Sir, you lied to me."

Okay, maybe that was coming off a little strong, but then so were her feelings on the whole darn mess. If there was one thing that really got under Judy's fur (and okay, yes, fine, there was more than just one thing), it was getting taken for a ride.

"Oof! Now that, Hopps, is a serious accusation." Wilde's look of false hurt evaporated, and sly amusement took its place. "Not to mention a baseless one. Because I. Never. Lie."

Judy had been wrong, and now her forehead almost hurt from the strain. "Sir-"

Wilde held up a digit, green eyes a-twinkling. "Ah ah! Consider the following." He slipped off his shades and shut them with a flick. "Mystic Springs Oasis is, in fact, something like a health club. And what you just saw there? One-hundred-percent pure, Grade-A Zootopia. Or one side of it, anyway. I'm guessing things are a little different back in good ol' Bunnyburrow. Ergo, culture shock." The fox settled back in his seat, looking utterly self-satisfied. "I never lie, Hopps. But you know how it is. Devils and their details."

Judy scrunched her muzzle as she tried to think up a good retort. Tried and failed. Because, if she was being honest? The detective was, on an annoyingly technical level, correct. He hasn't lied. No, not exactly. He'd just left out some slightly important details.

Still.

The bunny liked Detective Wilde. Really, she did. He was living, breathing proof that the Zootopian dream wasn't, in fact, a (complete) lie. An unconventional mammal who had (slowly) risen up the ranks of the ZPD to become a (somewhat) trusted officer. A predator who was kind and helpful and even sort of sweet in his own way. Not malicious, despite what even the usually open-minded Clawhauser seemed to think. Hadn't this been for her own benefit? Unconventional, sure, but not what Judy would call ineffective. The bunny, begrudgingly, supposed she could give him the benefit of the doubt.

Any retort she might have pieced together went unsaid, and the cart ride descended into uneasy silence. One which broke two streets later when the fox waved his white flag-in that special Detective Wilde kind of way, of course.

"You know," said the reynard, slowly and-maybe Judy imagined it-almost carefully. "In retrospect, that might have been a little much."

This time, the rabbit did chance a glance his way. "Just a little bit, sir?"

Wilde held his paws up in surrender, ears splayed back in what Judy took as a show of submission. Or would it be annoyance? Condescension? Reading foxes wasn't her strongest suit.

"Alright, Hopps. Point taken, and I'm sorry. Didn't mean to start things off on the wrong foot like that." He let those paws fall into his lap as he regarded her with...something. Judy wasn't sure what. "Don't suppose I can make it up to you?"

Judy was about to wave the idea off. Ready to forgive and forget because, darnit, that's the kind of mammal she was. Then she paused. Felt the lifting of her ears and the whirring of wheels in her bunny brain.

Then she smiled.

"Actually, sir, there is something..."

"Uh oh." Wilde sounded more far more amused than truly worried. "I've heard that tone before."

Judy ignored the tease. "See, I was thinking: You already know everything about me. Right?"

"Well, there were those articles," the fox hedged, his shrug noncommittal. "Everything is kinda pushing it-"

"But on the other side of the coin," Judy cut in, "I don't know much of anything about you." She paused for effect. "In fact, I don't think anyone does. Not anyone in the ZPD, anyway."

A bold statement, in Judy's estimate, but likely an accurate one. Clawhauser was the "in" mammal on the force. If he had nothing on Detective Wilde, then no officer did. Probably.

Flicking his gaze toward the windshield, Wilde followed it up with a click of his tongue. "Ah. So that's where this is going." Then the fox scoffed out a chuckle. "Don't you want something a little more tangible? Gift card to Bed, Bat and Beyond, maybe?"

Ever adamant, with both eyes still on the avenue ahead, a smiling Judy shook her head. "No, I'm pretty sure this is what I want, sir." Her ears perked and her lips smirked. "Maybe we could say I'm solving a mystery. Another part of the evaluation."

Judy liked to think she sounded pretty sly right then. Enough to give Detective Wilde a run for his money, even.

The fox, on the other paw, looked almost reluctant. "Seriously, Hopps? Awful big waste of a peace offering."

"Nuh uh, you're the one who asked. So no backing out now." The bunny was finding that she rather liked being the playful one for once. Satisfaction in smugness. She tilted her head in her own brand of mock cuteness. "Is it really so much to ask? I mean, unless you really are hiding some deep dark secret…."

For just one split second, Judy could have sworn that Wilde seemed almost taken-aback. Then the look was gone, with nothing in its wake but a laidback chuckle. "Thus the rumor mill turns ever onward, I see. Somebunny's been talking with a certain cheetah."The fox clicked his tongue and sighed. "Should've guessed; bet you didn't have a ton of options in the friend department."

Judy wasn't sure exactly what kind of look she'd shot him, only that it was enough to get two placating paws up in the air. "Not dissing Clawhauser, Hopps, relax. I like Ben. He's a great guy." A beat passed, and Wilde leaned his head the other way. "...But also the office gossip, and I know my reputation isn't…" He trailed off into a soft scoff. "Isn't the most flattering." The fox shrugged and gazed out the windshield. The look on his face struck Judy as oddly melancholic. Something which didn't fit the detective she knew at all. Not one bit.

"Now you know it too."

Oof. Okay, so he hadn't taken that quite so in-stride as she'd expected. Judy being Judy, the rabbit tried the optimistic approach. "Well, uh, maybe it's because no one knows the real you? I could try and fix that, if you let me." She shot him a short, hopeful glance.

Two half-lidded green eyes slid back her way, and the corner of that long muzzle lifted in a much more Wilde-ish way. "Last I checked, Hopps, you weren't even getting the time of day. Coming to bat for some shady fox won't change that." He leaned his head back so that his nose almost touched the curve of the canopy. "Hearts and minds and all that jazz."

Judy deflated a bit. It sucked, but the detective was probably right. In her short time on the force, Judy couldn't come up with any evidence to the contrary. Wilde, meanwhile, had known these mammals for years. He'd know how this would all play out.

"Of course," mused fox continued, and in a suddenly much lighter mood. Two emerald eyes darted back her way. "That'd be the easy part. Cause first…." Wilde spread his paws, digits splayed. "...You'd have to solve the enigma that is Detective Wilde. No easy task, I assure you."

The rabbit snorted. Wow, alright, sure. She could ham it up too. "Yes, one of life's biggest questions: How does my boss-"

"Mentor, please. Not a huge fan of the other word."

"-my mentor not know about the biggest fantasy movie epic in forever?"

Wilde smiled sweetly, not taking the bait. "The world may never know."

"Golly, that's a real shame, sir." Judy's eyes went half-mast. "Oh, wait, no. Cause there's that peace offering you already promised me." She sucked in a breath through her teeth in sarcastic disappointment. "Yeahhhh. Looks like there's won't be any mystery after all."

Victory was decidedly short lived. "Au contraire, my good officer." Wilde was already grinning smugly in return. "You seem to have forgotten that I am your mentor."

Judy's smile promptly flatlined. "But you don't like pulling rank!" she accused. "You said that! That was you!"

"Then it's a good thing I'm definitely not pulling rank," he replied, pleasantly. "Just like I'm definitely not letting this little educational opportunity go to waste."

"Sir, you've got to be kidding me!"

Wilde ignored her, seeming absolutely enchanted by the idea. "No, this is great. I'll be the less-than-cooperative witness, and you'll be Miss Model Police Officer." He wagged a digit at her. "Cause I can tell you right now, playing Bad Cop will get you nowhere with me. Or nab you any gold stars." He finished with an impish grin and a lean her way. "Come on, Hopps. It'll be fun."

There wasn't any way around this, was there? Judy sucked in a breath, forced down a sigh, and nodded her head. "Okay, fine. We'll do it your way." Honesty, this fox.

"Aw, that's the spirit, officer." Wilde was all smiles then. Probably because, once again, the tables had clearly been turned. "Ask away, and let's see what happens."

At least Judy had a question already at-paw. But probably not the one he expected. The movie thing was strange, but the rabbit had bigger priorities in mind.

"Here's a simple one. Just something I've been wondering." A feeling of caution mingled with honest hope. She'd pondered a certain matter during their ride out from the station, but never really had the chance to bring it up. Now Judy wondered if she had lost her chance.

Yet, try everything.

Judy slowly took in a breath. Here went nothing.

"Alright, sir. I want you to tell me how you became a cop."

Wilde blinked. He turned his head and stared at her, brow quirked.

Then he laughed, any and all surprise clearly feigned. "What, is that all? Talk about playing softball, Hopps. But, hey, your choice." Utterly untroubled, he started counting off his digits. "Let's see here. First, I applied to the academy-"

She was going to pull her own ears out, Judy swore. "Sir!"

"Ah ah, no whining, Hopps," the fox playfully scolded. "Uncooperative witness, remember?"

Judy did her very best not to glare. Or roll her eyes. Or grit her teeth in frustration. "Fine. Sir." Well, two out of three wasn't terrible, right? "Why did you become a cop?"

"Hmm, now there's a much better question. Better story, too," Wilde said. "So long, in fact, that I'd rather not tell it all in one sitting."

No, no, of course not, Judy mentally sighed. That would be too easy. "And the reason for that being?"

"Because, Hopps, there's a lot of lead-up. I didn't just wake up one day and go, out of the blue, 'Wow, hey, I'm gonna be the first fox cop in the whole wide world!'" He spread his paws in artificial wonderment, then dropped them and chuckled. "Seriously, who does that?"

Judy kept decidedly silent.

"Not to say there weren't turning points. Guess we could go with one of those," mused the reynard, glancing out of the cab in apparent thought. Judy decided to just go with the flow and give him his space. Prodding him hadn't turned out to be the most successful strategy so far. At least she didn't have to wait long; those pointed fox ears flicked upward as their owner clapped his paws.

"Okay, I got it. Hopps, you seem like the chivalrous, straight shooter type. Any chance you were a Junior Ranger Guide back in the day? Or was home all Bunny Scout territory, far as the eye could see?"

An odd segue on his part, but Judy could play ball.

"No, Bunnyburrow had a Guide chapter," she explained. "Junior Ranger Scouts for the guys, too. But for my family it's Bunny Scouts or bust."

"You sound so thrilled about that," the fox observed, his sarcasm not misplaced in the least. "I'm guessing all the baking and cookie sales didn't exactly tickle your fancy."

That did get something like a chuckle out of Judy, or at least a small scoff. "Let's just say, sir, that I would have taken camping and mountain hikes in a heartbeat."

"And the games, the knot tying, the archery, the model rocketry, the helping old ladies across the street…."

One gray ear swiveled Wilde's way as an eyebrow arched in tandem. Huh, was that a hint of wistful nostalgia she'd just heard?

"Believe it or not, Hopps," the fox went on, head tilted back as he smiled up at the cabin roof, "I too was once an irascible little do-gooder, way back in the day. Completely insufferable. You'd have loved me."

Surprised as she was, Judy couldn't quite bite back a derisive snort. She'd gathered by now that the reynard wouldn't much care.

He didn't. "Doubting Thomas. Anyway, I was eight at the time, maybe nine, and I hear about this outfit called the Junior Ranger Scouts. So I think, 'Wow, now isn't that just Providence in action?'" Wilde's voice grew strangely reverent. Strangely quiet. "Hopps, more than anything in the world, I wanted to be a part of that."

He fell silent then.

A beat passed. Two beats. Three.

Then the fox shrugged and went back to scrolling on his phone. "So I joined up."

Several more beats ensued.

"...And?"

Wilde shrugged. "Not a lot to tell, Hopps. Stuck with it, graduated to the regular ol' Ranger Scouts. Learned all those valuable life skills, helped old ladies across the street, yadda yadda. Putting on the badge made a lot of sense after that."

"So that's it?" Judy was incredulous. Turning point, her big bunny feet! "Scouts, then cop?"

"Cause that didn't sound condescending at all," Wilde drawled. "Of course there's more to it Hopps. But we'll save that for later. Because there's a Snarlbucks around that corner up ahead, and we're making a quick coffee run."

The incredulity mounted. "Already? It hasn't even been two hours."

"Being awful judgemental, there, Hopps. Besides, I uh…." He trailed off, suddenly sounding oddly hesitant. "Well, since we're stuck together, guess you should know something. Just make sure it doesn't get around the station, alright? I have this condition…."

Judy's annoyance boiled away in an instant, guilt reasserting its (apparently all too rightful) place in her gut. "Sir, I didn't mean…." She winced hard. Stupid, stupid bunny. "...How bad is it?"

Wilde was looking away now, up ahead through the windshield again, his face schooled. "It's genetic. We don't talk about it much, but a lot of us predators have to deal with it."

He leaned back in, then, with sparkling green eyes and what had to be his smuggest smirk yet. "It's called being nocturnal."

Judy swore out loud. She'd walked right into that one.

Finding streetside parking for a teeny tiny little metermaid cart, at least was a breeze. "Sit tight, Hopps. Someone needs to keep an ear on the radio, and I can't think of any cop more qualified."

"Har har."

"Not a bunny joke, actually." Wilde hopped out onto the sidewalk and happily stretched his limbs. "You're my protégé, not my intern. Fetching coffee is a little beneath you. But maybe I can bring you a water? Carrot juice, maybe?"

That earned him a look.

"Ouch. It's just an educated guess, Hopps. No shame in that." With a grin and a swish of his tail, Wilde was off. Down the sidewalk, into the shop, and out of sight. Which left Judy all alone with an empty cart and a decidedly silent radio. Riveting. At least there was always Kibble Krush...

The phone was already in her paw when she spotted it: The red case folder. Still tucked under the seat where Wilde had left it, with a sliver of a corner jutting out into view. The case file that, in all of the excitement, Judy had forgotten to peek at.

She glanced back the way Wilde had gone. No sign of the detective yet. Technically, she shouldn't even glance through the file without his permission. But no fox, no foul, right? The eternally laid-back reynard probably wouldn't even care, anyway.

Sufficiently self-assured, Judy pulled the thing free and flipped it open. Her face promptly fell. This was it? This? At a grand total of one page, the so-called case file could barely count as a memo. There was the basic bio, a reference pic, a last-known-sighting….

Judy frowned and looked closer. No leads? No witnesses? This was ridiculous. An abysmally unprofessional, sub-minimum effort. Courtesy of one-

She checked the name on the report.

One Officer Bob Trumpet, apparently. Which begged the question: Just who the fluff was Bob Trumpet? Aside, of course, from a total incompetent who was so getting reported for gross negligence once Judy got back to the station.

She tossed the folder aside in disgust and fumed. Stewed. Mulled and mused. Under all that annoyance, some vague notion wiggled in the back of her head.

Judy double-checked the photo of Otterton's last-known-sighting. From the angle of the shot, she guessed it was taken by an elevated traffic camera. Not surprising. This was pretty much the go-to method for finding lost kids-or Otters, as it were. The city-wide "jam cam" network was beyond extensive. All an officer needed was a starting point. Then they could track a mammal wherever they went, camera by camera. Advanced facial recognition and tracking software that more or less automated the entire process. It was an effective-if still controversial-system.

At least when Officer Trumpet wasn't at the helm, it seemed. Judy could only shake her head in disbelief. Where was the timestamp? The date? The flipping location? This photo was totally useless!

The figurative light bulb finally flickered to life. Judy stared.

A few potted cacti in the background, some architectural styling, and that was it. The only clues that Otterton's last sighting might have taken place somewhere in Sahara Square. That was still a big if, and even then the district was no tiny place. Yet Detective Wilde had zeroed in on Mystic Springs Oasis without a second thought. No hesitation at all.

But how?

The rabbit slowly shut the folder and slid it back under the seat. It was silly, she knew; having second thoughts like this, and basically at the drop of a hat. The detective simply made a connection she didn't see yet. Wilde was eight years her senior, after all. Of course he was better at the job. This was all just irrational paranoia fueled by petty gossip and her own bunny instincts. She just needed him to clarify a few things, that was all.

Said train of thought went right out the window the moment a decidedly unhappy Wilde plopped back into his seat, coffee clutched in one paw and his phone in the other. "Hopps, I think those lucky rabbit feet of yours might be defective."

Judy blinked at him, honestly unsure how to take that. "Excuse me, sir?"

Wilde took a gulp of coffee and hissed through his teeth, all earlier playfulness utterly absent. "Got the call from records. Right now, you need to get us down to the ZPD impound lot, asap."

Something like worry danced behind those distracted green eyes. "Cause if you don't, Hopps, our lead on Otterton is about to go up in smoke."

* * *

 **Author's note (cont.): Well, it certainly has been a while, hasn't it? No, the story is not dead, because I really have been working on this one damn chapter all this time. Writing, rewriting, deleting, and then restarting it all again _ad infinitum, ad nauseum_. Let me tell you, I'm glad the chapter is over and the story can finally move forward. To those of you who kept pushing me to get this done (special shoutout to CombatEngineer and TheWyvernsWeaver here), you have my strongest thanks. Hopefully, this chapter lived up to your expectations. If not, well, we're in the same boat. You go over something too many times, trying to tinker with all the little details until they're _just_ right, and it all starts blurring together. It didn't help that this chapter feels very "filler-ish" to me. Still a necessary installment, mind, but it was still a pain to write through. That's not a very good excuse, but all I can do is make the next chapter that much better-and, of course, pump it out that much faster.  
**


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